


Shatter

by Lilyliegh



Series: Rhizomatic [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Battle City Arc, Depression, Gen, Kidnapping, Murder, Mystery, POV Multiple, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-09-18 13:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 107,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9387194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilyliegh/pseuds/Lilyliegh
Summary: Thirty-three golden pieces sail into the sky like stars gleaming under a weeping sunset.The loss of the Millennium Puzzle and the Spirit within it shuts down Battle City, leaving all eight participants in Domino City with varying degrees of hope, depression, and vengeance over the other Yuugi's "death". Some duelists, however, are more persistent in their goals.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> based on the prompt: "what would happen if jounouchi broke the Puzzle during the pier duel?"

Yuugi finds it interesting – and he uses the word quite loosely – that not months before this event he was standing across from another one of his friends. Just like this time, they had been dueling for their lives. There was much at stake in the duel. There was someone controlling his opponent's actions and thoughts. His friends were watching with terrified faces. He and the Pharaoh were unsure of how to proceed.

However, unlike the previous time, this friend is Jounouchi, not Kaiba, and that puts a new spin on the story. And instead of Pegasus controlling the duel by blackmailing his opponent, Jounouchi is being mind-controlled by a mysterious boy named Malik Ishtar who has been attempting to defeat Yuugi (or, more specifically, the Pharaoh) since Battle City has begun. After the previous battle where Yuugi had won Malik's god card, Saint Dragon of Osiris, Yuugi and the Pharaoh had assumed that Malik and his troupe of Ghouls would give up … but it appears that that was not the case.

And while the situation may seem more light-hearted when Yuugi tries to assume “I won once; can't I do it again?”, the severity of the duel is rapidly increasing. Jounouchi's deck has been revamped with Malik's illegal cards that chip away at his life points. Meanwhile, Yuugi and Jounouchi have been chained to an anchor in the middle of the dueling field, with the specific instructions that whoever loses will be dragged to the bottom of the ocean while the other will escape. If it was Malik dueling, Yuugi might've been less inclined to hold back his attacks; Malik probably would have had a sneaky backup plan that would spare him his life. Unfortunately, duelling Jounouchi leaves Yuugi feeling trapped. Does he risk his own life or his friend's?

The only way Yuugi can beat Malik and save Jounouchi is by freeing his friend of Malik's mind control.

 _What reminds Jounouchi of me?_ Yuugi thinks to himself.

 _How about a memory?_ the Pharaoh offers.

 _He's not going to listen to me. We already tried talking him out of it._ That idea had been useful, as Jounouchi had snapped out of the mind control momentarily; however, moments later it was Malik talking and Jounouchi had that sadistic look on his face.

Yuugi fists his hands in his hair, pulling at the star-shaped points and then dragging his hands down past his blond bangs and purple eyes. _Jounouchi needs to remember us. I can't give up!_

He looks ahead to his friend. “Jounouchi-kun, don't you remember our duels in first year! Don't you remember all the fun we had at the museum and the water park and the amusement park. Sure we almost died, but can't you remember those memories with you friends?”

Jounouchi just smiles, his face becoming an eerie mask. “I don't remember any of those, Yuugi.” And the duel continues.

More of Yuugi's life points chip away. The Pharaoh's temper rises and he begins cursing Malik loudly, even though only Yuugi is able to hear. Yuugi can hear everything: the cries of his friend, the curses of his other half, and, distantly, the taunts of Malik. He wishes that there didn't have to be a end result to this deal, because neither drowning himself or his best friend sounds appealing, and Yuugi doesn't consider himself strong enough to make a choice about who lives or who dies. He'll give his life up to Jounouchi if he has to, but he knows that Jounouchi will do the same for him.

Yuugi cups the Puzzle in his hand to protect it from another attack of Fire Ball, a destructive and illegal spell card that inflicts 500 points of damage to the enemy.

 _Cheap, dirty tricks,_ are the Pharaoh's thoughts of this attack. _A real duelist would fight fairly, monster to monster. This is unfair and a dishonour to the game._

 _Malik doesn't seem to care about that right now,_ Yuugi mutters. _I don't even think he planned on fighting us over a game of Magic and Wizards. He probably just figured out that we'd be in the tournament, and he assumed that he could fight us then._

The Pharaoh, however, does not agree. _This feels too planned. Malik must have been preparing for his revenge for_ years.

 _Over a game of Magic and Wizards?_ says Yuugi. _Unlikely. Only Kaiba is that persistent._

Neither Yuugi nor the Pharaoh have a chance to speak up, as suddenly there is another attack, this time on Red Eyes Black Dragon. Yuugi bites his lip to keep from crying out. Using Red Eyes Black Dragon had been another attempt to bring Jounouchi back, but it seems as though even the presence of Jounouchi's favourite monster isn't enough to help him remember. The attack leaves Yuugi lying on the ground. He has no intention of returning to his feet.

_What if there is no other way than to let Jounouchi win? Then he'll be OK … Someone else will save him._

The Pharaoh senses this emotion. His voice cuts in before Yuugi can continue. _No!_ he says. _You need to show Jounouchi that you're his friend. You need to stay strong with him or else Malik will continue to control his mind. Think, Yuugi! What else can you show Jounouchi that would remind him of you, of your friendship?_

 _I –_ Yuugi pauses. _Show … I need to show him. Pharaoh, Jounouchi always said that friendship is something that you can show but can't see. Well, I need to show Jounouchi something that he_ can _see so I need …. ah, what do I need … Ah hah!_ _The Puzzle! Jounouchi and I became friends because he found the missing piece of my Puzzle._

 _But should Malik get his hands on the Puzzle?_ the Pharaoh asks.

 _This symbolizes my friendship with Jounouchi,_ says Yuugi. _If I give him the Puzzle, then Jounouchi will wake up and remember who his friends are. He'll remember me._

_Very well, Yuugi. I will see you at the end of this duel. Keep yourself and Jounouchi safe._

_Thank you, Pharaoh._

Yuugi slowly stands and begins shuffling towards Jounouchi. His movements are jerky and painful. The cold wind that blows against them makes Yuugi shiver, but he presses on until he stands before his friend. There is no emotion in Jounouchi's eyes.

“Jounouchi-kun, I want you to have this,” Yuugi says. “I'm going to sink to the bottom of the ocean, but I don't want the Puzzle to come with me. It's too important. Whatever happens, I can't let you lose … So please, Jounouchi-kun, keep the Millennium Puzzle for me.” Yuugi takes the Puzzle off and gently places the chain around Jounouchi's neck. He lets the Item hang on his friend's chest like a protective ward. In the sunset, the gold glows a bright orange that lights up the dueling platform.

“Thank you,” Yuugi whispers.

Then he begins the slow walk back. His body and head feel lighter; it has been less than a month since the incident at the Black Crown Game Shop, but still the feeling of being without the Pharaoh leaves Yuugi in a cold sweat. He reminds himself that he will see the Spirit of the Millennium Puzzle once more, after the duel is complete, he and Jounouchi are safe, everyone is safe, and they no longer have to worry.

Jounouchi does not blink. He cups the Puzzle in a shaking hand. His eyes are wide and blank, but Yuugi knows that Jounouchi is fighting an internal struggle. Malik must be trying to control him.

_But Jounouchi is stronger. He'll break through._

The puzzle is raised in the air. Jounouchi's face twists and morphs in agony. “No!” he cries. “Stop!” His hand shakes, knuckles white around the edge of the golden Puzzle. And then his hand goes lax. The Puzzle tumbles towards the sea, chain twirling in the breeze. Before it hits the ocean's surface, Jounouchi's foot shoots out and delivers a strong kick. Thirty-three golden pieces sail into the sky as stars before landing in the water with a soft _plop!_

“No!” Jounouchi screams. His eyes hold such an intense emotion that Yuugi cannot look at them; instead, he rushes towards the water and dives in regardless of the temperature. He feels fingers on his shirt but pulls away before he can be dragged to safety. The Puzzle – the symbol of his friendship with Jounouchi, and his connection to the Pharaoh – becomes a speck of gold in the dark abyss of the ocean.

However, Yuugi had forgotten about the manacle tight on his leg. It stretches up high to a large anchor that hangs over the field. Yuugi's leg tightens and his body is roughly pulled back. His head breaks the surface for a second, coughing and gasping from the shock of being yanked back up to shore. Yet this inconvenience does nothing to deter Yuugi – he dives back down and pulls as hard as he can against the chain. His arms and legs kick with the force of a hundred swimmers.

Soon the Puzzle is out of sight. Yuugi screams and pulls harder. A pair of strong, familiar hands grab the back of his shirt and pull him towards the surface.

“Get off me, Malik!” Yuugi snarls. “How dare you throw –” Yuugi stops himself as he sees tears in brown eyes and a sympathetic expression. “Jounouchi-kun...?” His reply is a firm hug that knocks his breath out of him. It ends quickly, nonetheless, for Jounouchi sees the urgency to find the Puzzle in Yuugi's eyes. Yuugi attempts to dive down again, but Jounouchi pulls him back and shakes him once.

“Yuugi, we have to get the manacle off! You can't dive down with it.”

“But the Puzzle –” Yuugi begins.

“You can't find it if you can't dive down.”

Yuugi cannot argue with Jounouchi. He swims to the edge of the pier and clambers up the wood; Anzu helps him up, and her warm hands remind him that he has been in the chilly waters for too long. A warm blanket from Kaiba's emergency kit is wrapped around his shoulders. Jounouchi and Honda begin fiddling with the lock on his ankle. The contraption is large and bulky, but Honda assures him that he will open it in less than five minutes.

“Do you feel all right? Not cold, tired? Is there feeling in all of your fingers?” Anzu frets over him, accompanied by a faithful Shizuka. Jounouchi reaches up and pinches his arm.

“Ouch! Jounouchi-kun!” Yuugi rubs the tender area.

“He's fine,” Jounouchi says, and Yuugi feels the first real smile on his face.

The moment is cut short by the urgency to rescue the Puzzle. By now, the Puzzle is probably at the bottom of the ocean, far away from sight. Yuugi sighs and tugs the blanket tighter around his shoulders. Defiance has never been part of his personality, yet right now he wants to dive back into the water, ignore the cries of his friends, and find the Pharaoh. How lonely must it be to sink to the bottom of the ocean …

 _It must be like before – before I solved the Puzzle._ The Pharaoh was trapped in the Puzzle for three millennia before Yuugi solved the Puzzle. During those endless years, he was alone. He didn't know his name, his country, his past. For three millennia, he was nothing. And then he was found. The Pharaoh at that time had been mad. He was possessive and cruel; the punishment he enacted upon those who harmed Yuugi were too harsh to recollect. Yuugi didn't remember most of them, and those that he did remember were frightening.

But afterwards the Pharaoh changed. He became more human, docile, and just – his punishments didn't serve to harm the criminal, but to ensure that their misdeeds never happened again. Furthermore, Yuugi knew of these judgements: no longer was there a mystery to the harm the Other Yuugi has committed in Yuugi's body. Certainly there are people that bring out the darkest in the Pharaoh – Seto Kaiba and the Other Bakura being two of those people – but Yuugi more or less _agrees_ with most the Pharaoh's judgements.

Yuugi's heart aches. When they find the Puzzle, will the Pharaoh be the same? They were lucky that the Pharaoh's sanity was not harmed when Mr. Otogi broke the Puzzle at the Black Crown Game Shop. Would such luck happen twice?

“Yuugi.” He looks up. Anzu stands with a paper cup of tea in her hands. “This should warm you up.”Yuugi accepts it with a thank you and takes a sip. His fingers quiver with anticipation.

“Hang in there, hon,” Mai says, crouching down next to him. She opens her mouth to say more, but Honda cuts her off with a slam of his fist.

“Done!” Honda shouts. He yanks off the manacle, and no sooner is Yuugi throwing himself back into the ocean. The cold stuns him and he pulls back for a second. Then there is a pulse in his body that tells him to swim. Yuugi dives deep, eyes burning from the saltiness of the water. Jounouchi's hand grabs his and gives a gentle squeeze. _I am here_ , Jounouchi tries to say.

 _Thank you_ , Yuugi says, holding Jounouchi's hand tight.

The two boys search the water for over an hour without a glimmer of hope. The ocean is forever dark and within minutes their fingers and lips are tinged blue with cold. Soon afterwards their limbs become stiff and jerky, and it is only when their bodies tense up in the water that they swim back to the dock. Honda and Otogi rush to edge and lift them out of the water. The temperature difference makes them shiver harder. Anzu and Shizuka are at the boys' sides with emergency blankets and more hot tea.

 _Where is this tea coming from?_   thinks Yuugi. He accepts it, though, if only to quell the burning feeling in his fingers.

“Did you actually think you'd find it?” Seto grumbles. Yuugi looks up, shocked to see that particular classmate still here.

“And why are you still hanging around?” Jounouchi says. “Don't you have a tournament to organize?”

“I'd like to make sure all my opponents arrive on-time,” he says. He looks towards Yuugi. “Get on your feet and meet me at the location in fifteen minutes. I hope you're not too tired from your swim. I expect a proper duel.” He turns around with a dramatic flourish from his coat and stalks towards his helicopter. Mokuba hurries after him, briefcase in hand.

“I'm not going.”

Seto turns. His expression is lethal. “ _What?_ ”

Yuugi lifts his chin. “I'm not going to Battle City – not without the Puzzle.”

Seto's fingers twitch. The wind blows his hair to the side, and Yuugi can see a vein pulsing on his head. His breathing is rougher. “You can't withdraw,” he says, voice soft. “It doesn't matter if you're wearing jewellery or not. You're a duelist, Yuugi, and you can't back down from this!”

“The Pharaoh and I are duelists,” Yuugi corrects. He swallows. “You can have your competition without me.”

From the side, Jounouchi adds, “But Yuugi, don't you want to duel Malik? He's got some freaky superpowers – maybe he can bring the Other Yuugi back.” Yuugi shakes his head, wet hair slapping his cheeks. Yuugi brings his hand up to his face to brush away the droplets, only to realise that he's crying.

“That's _his_ style, Jounouchi-kun. I don't need to duel Malik to get revenge. If he comes after me again … well, I'll see. But right now I just want to find the Puzzle. No duels.”

“You're a coward, Mutou Yuugi!” Seto shouts. He turns again and stomps off towards his helicopter. “Stupid prophecies,” Yuugi hears him say, but the sound of the helicopters motor drowns out any other words. He and Mokuba board, and soon the white copter can be seen cutting through the dark sky. Yuugi watches it until it is a speck in the distance, a small light among the glimmering stars in the sky. His heart feels heavy for letting Seto down. Battle City was a dream that he, Seto, and Jounouchi shared. But is it wrong to let dreams go in favour of more serious ones? After all, rescuing the Pharaoh is of utmost importance.

No one says as word as they begin packing up. Yuugi takes another look at the water. Diving in again would be reckless. There's no way he will accept that the Puzzle is not there, but searching in the dark is unwise. If he jumps in, Anzu or Jounouchi will have to pull him out.

Yuugi remains standing at the pier for nearly twenty minutes, contemplating the various ways that he could find the Puzzle. By far his most outlandish idea is to call Seto and blackmail him into fishing the Puzzle out of the ocean – and only then will Yuugi join Battle City. Seto has the ability to change fate with money. He'd agree, as long as he could face Yuugi again.

 _Is it even me that he wants to face, or is the Other Me?_ thinks Yuugi. _Does Kaiba-kun even realise that his rival is gone? That there were two souls in one body and that he only ever challenged one of them?_

Once the wind picks up, Yuugi decides it is time to go home for the night. The street lights have illuminated, painting fearsome shadows along the streets. The moon and stars provide another, more spectral light that caresses the surface of the water. His friends watch him begin to walk with apprehensive expressions. Anzu is the first to speak.

“Are you heading home?” she asks, tilting her head to one side. Her gesture says, _You were going to leave without saying goodbye?_

Yuugi laughs and fakes a smile. “Yeah, I'm feeling a bit tired. And there's not much else we can do standing here in the dark. I'll just head home and look tomorrow.” He swallows a lump in his throat and forces an even bigger smile. “Have a good night, everyone!” He turns, drops the smile with a sigh, and begins walking towards the train station. If he doesn't miss the next train, it will take him about an hour to get home. Grandpa will be worried when he sees him, still wet from swimming and missing the Millennium Puzzle.

An arm locks with his.

“You don't think you're going home alone, do you?” says Jounouchi. Next to him is Shizuka, and Honda, and Otogi. Anzu holds onto his other arm and pulls him away from Jounouchi.

“We'll all go home together,” she states. Next to her, Mai gives a gentle nudge.

“I could give you a ride,” she says. “It's really no trouble.”

“I prefer keeping my stomach inside my body,” says Honda with a laugh. Otogi nods.

Mai rolls her eyes and links arms with Anzu. They make a long chain, arms linked and smiles plastered on their faces like clowns. Yuugi doesn't believe anyone's truly happy right now, but he's glad that his friends are making a visible effort to appear content. He wouldn't want to see any of them unhappy.

They walk in false cheeriness under the glow of the moon and stars. When they make it to the train station, Honda and Otogi bid them farewell and head towards a different terminal. Mai laughs that she left her car parked by the pier and will probably get a ticket, so she rushes back with a wave and a smile.

“Aren't you going too?” he says to Jounouchi, though the question is also directed at Shizuka and Anzu, who stand a few paces away. The two girls are admiring a poster of an upcoming concert. It's one of Anzu's favourite bands; she's been talking about it for weeks, but with Battle City overtaking the city by storm, there hasn't been much talk of anything _besides_ M&W. The news coverage for the tournament has taken over most of the city centre, nearly half of the news stations, and most front pages of the newspapers.

“Home?” Jounouchi echoes. “Nah … I'll sleep at your place tonight. Shizuka's finally out of the hospital, but I don't really have the place cleaned up yet. Heh, I should've done that earlier.” He scratches the back of his head and smiles. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all. It'll be nice to have someone at the house tonight...” Yuugi's voice drifts off at the implications. It will be his first night without the Puzzle. It feels like something large is missing from his body – the weight of the Puzzle, the presence in his mind, the soul in his body hold such a valuable place in him that he misses the feeling of never truly being alone. He feels empty, lost. He should still be swimming in the ocean. He _left_ the Pharaoh down there.

Yuugi shakes himself of the thoughts and pulls his bangs. “Anzu, are you coming back to my place?” His voice cracks twice.

“Oh, sure, Yuugi. Will you have room for me?”

“You can sleep in the spare room with Shizuka, if you'd like, and Jounouchi and I can sleep in my room. That is, as long as you're OK with sharing a room.” Anzu laughs and brushes Shizuka's shoulder.

“I don't mind. Do you?”

Shizuka shakes her head.

The train comes minutes later and they board. Anzu begins to make a strong effort to raise the energy: she talks eagerly about the concert, about going to town to do some shopping, about a new restaurant in the mall that sells delicious crepes. The concert doesn't interest Yuugi (if there's no idols in mini-skirts, he's out), shopping is Anzu's thing (unless there is a promise of visiting at least one game shop), and even the restaurant is not appealing (honestly, there are about five different crepe places that sell “the best” – what makes this one different?).

“I think I might just stay home and work at the shop. Grandpa may need some help moving boxes … or maybe I'll help Mom …” Yuugi trails off. It's no use coming up with excuses.

“Well you won't be staying home alone!” Jounouchi says, grabbing him on the shoulder and giving him a firm shake. “Shizuka and I'll be there with you! We'll keep you company.” Yuugi doesn't miss the suggestive eyebrow raise.

“Shizuka-chan, maybe I'll come pick you up tomorrow and we can go shopping.”

Yuugi hasn't heard Shizuka speak since she was brought to the pier. The girl's probably still recovering from shock after witnessing the catastrophe on the pier. She had just recovered her vision. These sights and faces are all new to her.

“That sounds great, Anzu-chan!”

The rest of the conversation is equally uneventful. Yuugi spends most of ride trying to think about something other the lost weight around his neck. Even when he was bored, there was someone special to whom he could talk. Without the special person, Yuugi feels lonely, like he's been abandoned. He hasn't though; his friends are sitting next to him.

Their moods perk up when they spot the Kame Game. The house is small, painted tacky-yellow, and modestly decorated. There are big letters over the door that shout _Welcome! i_ n a font reminiscent of MS Word's Jokerman. The overall message says _good games, good service, good prices … lacks customers._ There is a significant lack of clients at the game shop, either indoors or outdoors. Indoors, the shop boasts an impressive display of old and new games. Digital games sit in large cardboard structures designed to target the eyes of teenagers. Along the walls are more traditional tabletop board games. There are other games that Yuugi is unsure would be classified as “games”, such as the ghostly hand; and there are those that should not be sold to the general public, such as the Dragons Cards. The counter sits along the back wall, behind which is a showcase for typical and rare Magic & Wizards cards. Yuugi's grandfather boasts one of the largest displays of M&W cards … behind Pegasus J. Crawford and Kaiba Seto, of course.

His grandfather sits at the counter, writing down inventory. He looks up when the door opens.

“Yuugi!” He embraces his grandson. Yuugi returns the hug with little enthusiasm. There is a pang in his chest from the Puzzle _not_ stabbing him when he embraces someone. Grandfather does not respond to Yuugi's quiet nature: he begins greeting the other guests they remove their outside shoes and don slippers. “So good to see you Jounouchi-kun” He grasps Jounouchi's shoulder and pulls him close. “Food's in the fridge; take what you need.” Jounouchi happily complies. His grandfather turns to Anzu. “You are looking fine as always, Anzu-chan. How was the day?”

“Good,” Anzu says in a small voice. Grandfather doesn't seem to notice.

“And who is the other lovely lady that you brought with you?” Grandfather's antics should bring a smile – or a long-suffering sigh – from Yuugi, but he hovers awkwardly to the side as his grandfather continues to greet his guests.

“Kawai Shizuka,” she says, bowing low.

“My little sister,” Jounouchi adds helpfully from the door. He holds a can of green tea and bowl of cold udon. It seems Jounouchi has already raided the fridge to find the most simple of ingredients.

“Are you hungry too, Shizuka-chan?” his grandfather asks. Shizuka politely shakes her head. “Yuugi, tea!” Yuugi bows his head and heads to the kitchen. His mother is absent, probably on the upstairs level cleaning or sweeping. As he passes, his grandfather asks about his day, beginning with the start of the tournament, then –

“Yuugi, the semi-finals! Did you not make it?”

“No, I made it.” Yuugi pulls out his Puzzle Cards and fans them out for his grandfather to see. His six Puzzle Cards do not create a complete map – he'd need all forty-eight of them to get the map of Domino City – but when laid atop each other, they produce a partial map that highlights the area of the semi-finals.

His grandfather looks at the Puzzle Cards, then back at Yuugi, who disappears around the corner to fix tea. “Why aren't you there? The finals are tonight, Yuugi! Grab a piece of toast and go!” Yuugi swallows. He hovers at the kitchen counter; his hands shake too hard for him to hold the tea tray steady. “Yuugi …?” His grandfather is in the living room with the others in tow. The look on his face reminds Yuugi of a bystander – concerned but confused.

“The Puzzle … where's the Puzzle, Yuugi?”

Yuugi can no longer hold back the tears. They leak from his eyes; Yuugi covers his face with his hands to hide his painful crying. He hears Anzu begin to cry too. She had been holding it together since they arrived at the Kame Game, knowing full well that this awkward conversation would occur sooner rather than later.

“Yuugi, what's wrong?” His grandfather's voice had been loud and struck the curiosity of his mother.

Even though she is unaware of his other self, of the mysterious and magical powers of the Millennium Puzzle, she is still aware of the strange events that have been happening; thus, it is no surprise that she stands at the top of the stairs with a worried expression. Prior to that, she appeared to be cleaning – flyaway red hairs frame her face, dust coats her simple dress and apron, and a well-used feather duster is clasped in her hands. She frowns when she sees his face and rushes down the stairs to embrace him. Yuugi does not push away: he lets his mother hug him, press kisses to his cheeks, and rub his back. “Yuugi, what happened?” she whispers. “Where's your Puzzle?”

“I lost it … It's in the ocean.” His mother deserves nothing less than the truth.

Next to her, Yuugi's grandfather stumbles. “Lost it?” he echoes. “How did you lose it?”

“Not now, father,” his mother says. She presses another kiss to Yuugi's cheek. “It's going to be OK. I'm sure we'll be able to find it.”

 _Unlikely_ , thinks Yuugi. _It's at the bottom of the ocean._ He lets his mother fret over him for a few more minutes before pulling away. He wishes the conversation would change.

“Well, we can check the beaches tomorrow,” his grandfather says. “It may have washed up. We can post flyers around and ask locals if they've seen it. After all, you're famous, Yuugi. Someone's bound to recognize the Puzzle as yours.”

“How about asking your classmate, Kaiba-kun, for help?” his mother adds.

Jounouchi snorts. “He'll help, but only because Yuugi dropped out of the tournament.” Jounouchi smiles. “Let's blackmail him.”

“I don't think that's the best of ideas” Anzu says with a frown. “But it might work. Kaiba-kun values Yuugi's participation in the tournament. If we remind him that Yuugi will only join if the Puzzle is retrieved, Kaiba-kun will move mountains to ensure the Millennium Puzzle is retrieved. We can call him tomorrow; who knows what he's doing tonight.”

The plans begin to erupt as Anzu and Jounouchi decide when they will call Seto, what they will say, and what other things they can hang over his head to ensure that the Millennium Puzzle is retrieved.

“I don't think we need to bother Kaiba-kun,” Yuugi says. “He's already busy from the tournament. And besides, it's not his problem that the Puzzle's gone. I can find it on my own.” With his hands no longer shaking quite as much, Yuugi begins pouring green tea into six small teacups with flowers on them. He passes the hot cups to each person in the room.

“Please let us help you,” Anzu says as she cradles her cup in her hand. “We all want the Pharaoh back.”

Yuugi does not respond. He clasps his cup in his hands to suck the warmth from it. The coldness from swimming in the ocean and walking in the chilly wind had just registered in his body.

Yes, it's true that everyone wants the Pharaoh back. He's their friend too. But to Yuugi, the term friend cannot cover the depth of their relationship. His other self has been a part of him since the beginning of high school. The two of them have braved all the hardships of school: festivals, girls, clubs, and bullies. His other half has always been with him. It's hard for his friends to understand how he's feeling because they've never had someone with them 24/7. This is the first time in a year that Yuugi has been alone. Before that, the Puzzle – and his other half – were with him.

“Your friend Bakura-kun's stabled. He's staying overnight at the hospital, but he's doing well.” Yuugi thanks his grandfather for recognizing the end of a conversation. “Perhaps tomorrow we can go and sign him out. It must be lonely for him – no family nearby to stay with him.”

“Then Bakura can help us look for the Puzzle,” suggests Jounouchi. “The more eyes the better.” His grandfather nods in agreement.

“Yes, but maybe we'll let the boy have a break. He needs sleep and a better diet. I might ask him to stay the night tomorrow. Living by yourself can be rough.” He pauses. “Speaking of that – are you all staying the night?”

“I can get the futons out,” Yuugi's mother says. “Would you girls mind sleeping in the living room? The spare room isn't clean. Jounouchi-kun, there is a spare futon in Yuugi's room that you can use. I might also have some pyjamas for you – are you still in your wet clothes?”

With all that had been happening, Yuugi had forgotten about getting dry clothes. He picks at his wet shirt with a finger and decides that changing would be best. The conversation has not wavered from the Millennium Puzzle yet, and this makes Yuugi uncomfortable. Why do they have to keep talking about the Puzzle? It's gone. They will look for it tomorrow. Everyone's upset. But there's nothing they can do until morning, and even then what _can_ you do when it's at the bottom of the ocean? Yuugi appreciates the concern his family and friends show for the Pharaoh, but it pains Yuugi to have the conversation. It was _his_ fault for losing the Puzzle, for giving it away to Malik. It's not Jounouchi's fault that Malik was controlling him.

His mother scurries away to set up the futons and put out pyjamas for them. His grandfather offers his friends a chance to bathe, but they all politely decline. Exhaustion envelops each of them; with tired bodies and souls, Anzu and Shizuka curl up on their futon. Yuugi leads Jounouchi up the stairs to his room, past pictures of a younger, happier Yuugi. His father is missing in all except one: there's a small photo tucked between bigger school portraits that depicts their happy family of four at the beach. Because of his father's frequent and extended business trips, the Mutou family has never had a chance to take a proper family photo, or even a simple group photo.

Yuugi's room is at the far end of the hallway. Jounouchi has been in his room many times, but he is still surprised by Yuugi's collection of fossils and relics from his grandfather's trips to the Middle East. The other bookcase, much closer to Yuugi's desk on the opposite wall, is less thrilling – junior high and high school textbooks are crammed in the little space, pages wrinkled and torn. Some slight manoeuvring is required in Yuugi's room, for he'd forgotten that he'd set up a car track in one corner, and tried his luck at the sock-matching game this morning. His bed sits in the corner.

His mother comes in just as Yuugi is adjusting the radio. The silence unnerves him.

“Yuugi, your room is a mess! Look at all this stuff! Where am I supposed to put the futon? Honestly, you could have cleaned up before you left the house.”

Jounouchi smothers a laugh in a fist.

“Jounouchi-kun, would you help me clean?” He gives his friend a look that states, _This is a command not a request._

“Demanding help from your guest?” Jounouchi teases.

“Please, Jounouchi-kun.” An innocent smile.

“For you,” Jounouchi says.

His mother deposits the futon by the door, assured that her son's room will be clean by tonight.

Yuugi pulls a box off his bookcase and pushes it towards Jounouchi.

“Car pieces go in there. I'll do socks.”

They work in silence for less than a minute before Jounouchi speaks up: “You're pretty good at faking happiness. When will you give in?”

“I'm fine,” Yuugi says. He picks up two socks, realizes that they don't match, and sets them back down. “I haven't lost hope. We'll go tomorrow. If Bakura-kun comes along, I'll ask him to track the Puzzle with the Ring. He's done it before.”

Yuugi doesn't miss Jounouchi's shiver at the mention of the Ring. Despite Bakura's claims that he never wears the Ring and that there is nothing possessing it or him, Jounouchi is convinced that the Spirit of the Ring will make a reappearance soon.

“Can the Ring track the Puzzle when it's … broken?” Yuugi's last words come out as a squeak. He looks over his shoulder to see Jounouchi staring at the floor. His hands are fisted around a piece of plastic track that is bending from the force of his grip. “The Puzzle's not complete. He'd have to find each piece down there.”

“He found you last time, right? When Otogi broke the puzzle.” Jounouchi is adamant, which both surprises and deters Yuugi. It's great that they are able to have this conversation, but can't it wait until morning? Yuugi doesn't want this day to revolve around the same event. It's tiring.

“Yes, but will Bakura-kun or the Spirit of the Ring be able to swim to the bottom of the ocean floor and pick up the pieces? Who knows how deep the ocean is.” Yuugi pauses to swallow. His throat has become tight. A change in topic is needed. “Do you like any of the new girls in our class? The girl in front of me is pretty cute.”

“Now's not the time to think about girls, Yuugi.” _Is that frustration in his tone?_

They lapse into an uneasy silence. Yuugi matches the last pair of socks and tosses them into his dresser. Jounouchi, by this point, has collected all the car track pieces in a box. He puts the box back in the bookcase, next to a globe and a Go board. The futon in laid on the floor.

“Do you not want to find the Puzzle?” Jounouchi asks. His voice is a knife cutting through the air. Yuugi inhales.

“No, Jounouchi,” Yuugi begins. “I want to find the Pharaoh – I do! But – I can't think about this right now! Today I was supposed to be in a tournament. Today I just dueled my best friend where _our lives were at stake_ , where _my childhood friend was strapped to a chair with a weight over her head._ After all that, I'm not sure if I should be thankful or upset for the outcome. Do I value the Pharaoh's life or yours and Anzu's? Should that have been the outcome?”

“I shouldn't have kicked the Puzzle,” Jounouchi says. “I was weak. I made the choice.”

“I made a choice too, but it's not your fault for the outcome. Malik plays dirty; even if you broke free, he'd have a back-up plan. There was no way to predict what would happen. Don't blame yourself.”

Yuugi isn't sure what to say next. His lips feel dry, his voice hoarse. While he is upset about the loss of the Puzzle – and how his heart aches right now as those painful memories of watching the golden pieces sail into the sky are brought to the forefront of his mind – he is not angry. What could he have done? Not trusted his best friend with the Puzzle? He can't be angry at himself or Jounouchi. He is not angry with Malik; he is incandescent. His mind burns when he thinks of that boy who used his friends as pawns in his sick game. He is disgusted that Malik dare call himself a duelist and participate in the Battle City tournament. If anything, Yuugi is glad that he withdrew from the tournament. Malik does not deserve the prestige of dueling him. Yuugi will not bring himself to fight dirty, but he assures himself that his punishment to Malik will not take place on the dueling field.

Yuugi steps out of the room to retrieve some sheets and a spare pillow from the bathroom. The lights are off in the hallway and the spare room; his mother and grandfather have retired to bed for the night. He pauses at the foot of the stairs to hear Anzu and Shizuka whispering downstairs. Are they having a similar discussion as he and Jounouchi? Or are they trying to avoid the elephant in the room, as Yuugi has been trying to do since they arrived at the Kame Game shop?

Upon returning to the room, Yuugi sees Jounouchi kneeling on the floor.

“You trusted me with the Puzzle.” Jounouchi's voice is thick.

“I still do,” says Yuugi from the doorway. He does not step further. “I want you to help me to find it – but let's do it tomorrow. I'm done with the drama for today. Too much happened and I just want to fall asleep.” He steps forward and kneels before Jounouchi. He hopes his expression conveys how he feels for his friend: compassionate, empathetic, sincere. Above all, Yuugi trusts Jounouchi.

“My trust was not broken today,” says Yuugi.

“Right.” A pause. “Do you have the doujin that Honda lent you?”

“ _T_ _hat_ doujin? The one with the … y'know ...” Yuugi feels his face heating up. He remembers Honda shoving this to him during Japanese class. The cover photo had been tantalizing. 'Goldilocks' it had read – and on the front was a beautiful blonde in baby-blue, frilly lingerie. Needless to say, Yuugi was the last one to leave class that day.

After Yuugi had gotten home, he'd ran upstairs and hid the erotica in the safest place: between his school textbooks. Yuugi extracts it from its hiding spot with a sly smile. He holds it aloft for Jounouchi.

“Honda wouldn't let me have it first. Give it here.” Jounouchi reaches for it, but Yuugi holds it back.

“I'm not done, Jounouchi-kun.”

“We'll then move over – I'm reading with you.” Yuugi doesn't argue. He scooches over on the bed and holds the doujin between them. Yuugi hasn't read far into the book. The introduction is a cliché: one beautiful, innocent middle-school girl in love with her upperclassman but too shy to confess her love. Thus, the girl wears a wig, dresses in lingerie, takes nude photos, and hides them in her love's desk.

“You could blackmail someone like that,” Jounouchi says. “Not that I'm thinking of blackmailing anyone.”

Yuugi rolls his eyes at Jounouchi.

“I'm not blackmailing Malik by catching nudes of him and exposing him to the tabloids. I don't even know who the hell he is. If he comes after me, then...”

“Maybe Kaiba'll take him out.” Jounouchi laughs at the thought. “He probably has the entire city on a camera feed. One of his henchmen could shoot Malik – _bang!_ – and then we wouldn't have to worry no more about him bothering us.”

 _We're still talking about the damn event,_ Yuugi moans. But he appreciates how light-hearted this conversation is. Every conversation prior has been about the Puzzle, about rescuing the other Yuugi and trying to find his memories. Yuugi believes that Malik has something to do with the Pharaoh's memories and past.

“Or” – and here Jounouchi's voice falls to a whisper – “we could get Bakura to help us. I bet the other Bakura would help. He wants your Puzzle too, right?”

Yuugi can't argue with that. The Spirit of the Ring is as desperate to get the Puzzle as Yuugi or Malik. If Malik destroyed his chance at getting at the Pharaoh, then wouldn't the Spirit enact revenge? Is it best to ask the other spirit for assistance, or to let him go at Malik on his own terms? Yuugi thinks hard about _how_ he can ask for help. Bakura Ryou seems to have no relationship to his other half; thus, asking for his assistance is meaningless. Yuugi wonders if it is safe to ask the Spirit for assistance.

The question burns in his mind for a minute before Yuugi sighs. He rests his head on the pillow. The doujin falls from his limp fingers.

“I don't know, Jounouchi-kun. Let's think about it tomorrow. I'm tired.”

“Oh, sure.” An awkward pause, during which Jounouchi retrieves the flimsy book and sets it on the desk. “G'night, Yuugi.”

“Good night, Jounouchi-kun.”

But Yuugi doesn't fall asleep. He waits until he can hear his friend's gentle breathing before rising. The stars shine their light through the skylight and down on Yuugi's bed. A small patch of light catches the edge of the puzzle box, and the warm, golden glow makes Yuugi's stomach flutter with nervousness. Yuugi takes the puzzle box back to his bed and holds it to his chest. Even if it's not the same size, there is still a feeling, a smell, a presence that surrounds the container of the Puzzle's pieces.

Yuugi does not sleep. He weeps with his face pressed to the golden puzzle box, fingers tracing the exterior designs. Each time Yuugi feels a pulse of magic, his heart flutters – and then there is silence in his head, and Yuugi remembers how alone he is, how alone he used to be before he solved the Puzzle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to poppy, without whom this story wouldn't even have begun (:


	2. Chapter 2

The Spirit of the Ring sits on the edge of the bed, shirtless and with a murderous look at the far door. The hospital room he's received is cozy and warm. The walls are earthy hues with wooden accents; the hospital equipment is chrome. There is one large window through which starlight pours down from the heavens onto the crisp hospital bed. The only thing missing from this picturesque room are the staff – quaint as they may be, their repeated, unannounced appearances are irksome and tiring. He knows that he is injured, that medical attention is necessary, yet there is only so much babying that he can withstand before he feels the need to lash out. It's insufferable.

 _Lesson learned: don't stab with the intention that the body will just regenerate like in a video game,_ says Ryou. His tone is sarcastic and biting in the Spirit's head.

_I am smarter than that, dear landlord. This was necessary to ensure that Ishtar Malik trusts me – which he shouldn't, mind you, but the boy's young and naive. He believes that we have the same goal._

Ryou cuts in before his Other Self can continue: _And you don't because he wants to kill the Pharaoh, and you want to return to the past to kill both the Pharaoh and the Spirit of the Puzzle. Thus you want to preserve the Millennium Puzzle, and Malik-kun wants to destroy it._ He pauses to take a breath. Footsteps pass by his room, but the door stays shut. Both he and the Spirit release a breath they've both been holding in. Ryou speaks.

_What I was going to say is this: We need to strategize how to earn and maintain Malik-kun's trust without jeopardizing our own. There's not much luck to this; we can strategize how we want to proceed without having to think about the probability of some random event occurring._

The Spirit chuckles. _Random events will always happen. There is_ always _a chance of probability – a random encounter, if you will._

Ryou believes the Spirit finds humour in this conversation. How is it that every time they try to plan something, his Other Self takes this as an opportunity to joke. The RPG humour is inventive; after all, life is a game. Yet this is the first time where Ryou _had_ believed the Spirit wanted to work together. Ryou doesn't see the co-operation when they have no plan with which to begin.

 _Yes, but if we focus on every probability, then we'll be here all night. Anything can happen. I get it. But what's important is understanding._ Ryou clears his throat. It's difficult to speak to someone when you aren't looking directly at them. For Ryou, he is sitting in his soul room, on his bed, talking to the floor. His Other Half, likewise, is thinking, but he is still glaring at the door.

 _Now,_ Ryou continues, _Ishtar Malik-kun is arrogant – he's driven by a desire strong enough to move mountains. Most people are – you, Kaiba-kun, the Other Yuugi all have motive to your actions. What divides you is your actions and personalities. Malik-kun is rash; he can't wait to kill the Pharaoh. Kaiba-kun was similar in Duelist Kingdom, but he's learning to be more patient … that and he's begun to have a change in motive._

 _Malik's motives aren't changing_ , the Spirit interjects.

_So we need to learn to work with them. Malik-kun thinks that we share the same motive._

_We need him to_ believe it. _He needs to know that we, too, will move mountains to kill the Pharaoh, and that our motives are parallel to his. Again, you want to kill the Pharaoh in the past, but Malik doesn't have time for you to raise hell._

Ryou is surprised that the Spirit has fallen quiet. The Spirit respects him as a person, as a comrade, as a game master, but not as a strategist. He's called him an egalitarian, a fool, a philanthropist. He is reminded that there is a loss to every win, and that what's important is not the final win, but the accumulation of overall wins. Losing one battle is not the end of the world. The Spirit is not upset by hindrances in his plans. Ishtar Malik is a hindrance. Ryou is certain that the boy will not survive the end of Battle City. The fact that Ryou's strategy is valued – or at least heard without being ridiculed by a more eloquent, philosophical one – is progress.

_Ishtar Malik-kun is fragile. His plan has no flaws because he hasn't thought to consider the complications, random encounters, whatever you wish to call them. We could wait for one of those random events to occur, or we could set one off for ourselves. Lose a duel, remove ourselves from the tournament, remove ourselves from play. The game master can control the outcome even when he's not the centre of attention._

_But see, dear landlord_ , Bakura begins. Ryou scoffs – saccharine friendliness is lost on him. He knows the Spirit is grinning. _We know nothing about Ishtar Malik. How can you interpret someone's actions when they are nothing more that some pretty-boy off the street? How much do we know about him? Manipulation requires something to manipulate. We have nothing._

 _Burn it to the ground_ , thinks Ryou. The Spirit of the Ring hears the comment and laughs out loud.

 _I'm not criticising you; I'm assisting you_.

_Bedside manner is warmer than this._

The Spirit is silent, but the emotions pulsing between them are rapid and energetic. The Spirit enjoys them. The curtains blow and Ryou is reminded that life continues outside of their mental conversations. The tournament begins soon, they are supposed to be contestants, and currently the duo is sitting in a hospital room bickering over whose first impression of a psychotic, foreign boy is correct.

_He's not psychotic; he's confused._

_You pity him?_ Ryou asks, voice mocking.

_I see him as misled, unfortunate, naive, but not psychotic. He's not hallucinating spirits and magical powers. If so, then you're as psychotic as it gets; you're talking to the floor that is somehow transmitting your dialogue to another entity – me – who can control your body at will._

_I get your point_. Ryou dislikes the amount of mocking. _Since you listened to my thoughts, you didn't happen to hear the first part by chance? We're in a tournament. If we're going to keep Malik-kun's trust, the least we can do is get into Battle City. I doubt he's saving us special tickets._

The Spirit nods, and soon he is sober, or at least as sober as he can be. It's 8:00 pm now. Ryou wonders if Yuugi and Co. are on their way to the secret location of the quarter-finals. The city lights outside glow with an intensity that ensures him that Domino City will not be sleeping tonight. Even if the media cannot record the footage on the secret dueling location, people will still be filling their blogs with juicy gossip.

The Spirit is upright and moving before Ryou can comprehend the action. The IVs are ripped from his arm and thrown to the side. His shirt is replaced. The duel disk slides onto his arm like a second skin.

 _Are we going out the front door?_ Ryou dares to ask.

 _Is there any challenge in that?_ the Spirit responds. He climbs on the bed and removes the bug netting from the window. With precision in his movements, he exits through the window and scales the building. Ryou's muscles tense – this body, unlike the Other's previous body in Egypt – is not used to climbing vertical buildings. For a second, Ryou believes that they will lose their grip and fall. They are on the twelfth floor; they will die if they slip. And that's all it takes: one slip of their fingers. Yet the feeling of hanging between life and death is exhilarating. Adrenaline pumps through his veins and Ryou floods the Other's senses with his emotions.

 _You like this?_ the Spirit muses. He lets go of the ledge and tumbles before catching himself on the window-sill below. Their muscles ache from the strain and one of his hands slips, but the strength of the Spirit surprises Ryou. He hangs for a second, grinning, before letting go and repeating the process.

_I'm between life and death. Where else would I like to be?_

_You are an enigma, dear landlord._ Ryou takes a deep breath and tastes the saltiness of the ocean, smells the fragrance of the cherry blossoms; he opens his eyes and sees the bustle of the city, the harsh lights of the city. He wonders what would happen if they fell. How would the city change?

 _And this is why I control the body. See, the probability of you harming the body is far greater._ Ryou cannot rebuke, so he scowls and focuses on the Spirit's daredevil movements. He appreciates how the Spirit takes care to prepare himself. There is no rush to get the puzzle cards, to be the first one to find the secret location. With each jump down, Ryou feels his body sink closer to reality. He begins to hear the chatter of people and the bustle of cars. He wonders if anyone will bother to look up and see him. What will they think?

When the near the ground, the Spirit begins to move the other way. He swings the body side to side before jumping and reaching for the next window-sill. This is repeated until they reach the corner. Ryou opens his mouth to say something needless, but the Spirit beats him to the answer. Instead of trying to reach around the building, he descends. This area of hospital is crowd-free: there is no entrance, few windows, and fewer parked cars. When they are two floors from the ground, the Spirit jumps for a tree and catches his legs around a thick branch. They hang monkey-style for a few seconds before dropping to the grass. Ryou can't help but feel proud of their accomplishment.

The Spirit travels down the street, hands in his pockets and head forward. The streets are busy, but he and the Spirit soon learn that most of the duelists have been eliminated. Within a few minutes, the Spirit grows bored. Each time he approaches a new duelist, he puts on a new persona: the young, naive duelist; the apathetic jerk; the geeky schoolboy. Ryou sighs at the antics. If they had begun dueling in the afternoon, they wouldn't be in this dilemma.

 _Correct,_ the Spirit says, _but then we wouldn't have earned Ishtar Malik's trust. This wound was necessary._

Ryou disagrees but chooses to keep his thoughts in his head. At least the world won't be able to hear him talking to thin air.

After ten minutes of walking in circles, an opportunity presents itself: three duelists huddle under a dim streetlight. They look to be a few years older than Ryou. They also appear to have lost their chips. Ryou sighs, but he stops when he overhears the conversation.

“... I wouldn't duel there in a million years! There's some dueling ghost at the cemetery. Besides, I'm out – no more locator cards.”

 _The graveyard?_ Ryou echoes. _Why would someone want to hide there?_

_It's a trap. They're waiting for the prey to come to them._

Ryou scoffs. _Only the most naive duelists would go to the graveyard looking for an ambush._ Ryou manages a laugh, but it dies in his throat as he feels his body move forward. For one painful moment he wonders if the Spirit is going to _talk_ to these duelists. However, they move past the group and head down a quiet street. The street-lamps are dim, the sidewalks barren, and the buildings far older than those in the city centre.

 _Aren't you going to ask where we're going?_ his other half teases.

_I've learned it's best not to._

The Spirit growls and doesn't rebuke.

Ryou is surprised, however, when he finds himself walking through the eerie cemetery. Despite the time, this area of town is smothered by thick fog and shadows. Dust, dirt, and cobwebs cover the more ancient tombstones, while there are snitches of gold and silver decorating the more modern – or more wealthy – headstones. Ryou can't help but marvel at the sight.

The Spirit is grinning at his approval. However, he does not relinquish control to Ryou, something which they boy finds frustrating. This is his _element_ , his _aesthetic_.

_And now's not the time for fangirling._

_Fine._ Ryou cannot help but pout. He makes an impressive display of pushing his displeasure onto his darker half.

 _Look for a tree – they're probably hiding behind it._ Ryou knows that these duelists are not pros. If they were skilled duelists, they would've obtained their locator cards long ago. Hunting is not waiting for prey; it's going after it, alternating between offensive and defensive. These nimrods focused on stealth; thus, they have not obtained enough locator cards to qualify. His other half complies and searches high and low. Ryou suspects that the mysterious graveyard duelists are watching them, but he wonders why they haven't ambushed him. What are they waiting for? The longer they walk through the graveyard, the more Ryou wonders if this is a prank. Are there duelists who would wait for their prey?

A flutter of movement appears in the corner of his eye. The Spirit spins around and glares. The movement stills, but the Spirit remains focused. He takes two tentative steps forward. The Ring glows. It shocks both Ryou and the Spirit, and they forget about the mysterious movement in the graveyard. The tines of the Ring lift and point out of the graveyard. Ryou has only seen this happen a few times, the most recent being when Otogi-san smashed the Puzzle. Ryou swallows at the thought.

_Did something happen to the Puzzle?_

The Spirit does not respond. He grabs the Ring with both hands and takes off down the path. The pointers of the Ring lead him out of the graveyard, down busy and deserted streets. Ryou glances around – where are they going? He notes that the buildings are becoming smaller, and the air tastes saltier. As the buildings thin, Ryou sees water. The ocean waves crash on the pier, spraying mist around the coast. For some reason, Ryou had expected to see a calamity – a god monster parting the sea, causing unknown destruction, defying its power as a duel monster. The disaster would be unfathomable. Stranded on the sides, Ryou thought he'd see Yuugi and the others. Instead, the pier is deserted. Ocean mist sprays from the strong waves. The water is as dark as the sky overhead.

 _Where's the Puzzle?_ Ryou wonders.

His darkness is silent. They approach the pier. The wood is old; chains are littered around the field. In the centre hangs a large anchor from which two more chains hang. There are little boxes on the edges too – neither of which have been opened. The overall environment brings a smile to Ryou. Like the graveyard, this area boasts a feeling of tranquillity that only comes from untouched, natural beauty. The chains, though man-made, are old, rusted. This area appears untouched for months, perhaps even years.

Ryou almost questions whether Yuugi was even here, but he does not dare argue with the Spirit. The Ring says that the Puzzle is here. That is the truth.

The Spirit circles the pier twice before stopping at the left side. The points of the Ring no longer point to the side, but downwards. The Puzzle is somewhere under the dark water, yet any glow of gold jewellery is absent. Anxiety bubbles in Ryou's chest. Did Mutou Yuugi drown? Did something happen to him?

 _OK, let's call Yuugi-kun or Anzu-chan. Maybe they know. Hey! What the hell are you doing?!_ The Spirit has begun removing his jacket and shoes. He throws them to the side and stands at the edge of the pier, toes curled over the edge. Then he jumps. Ryou is not prepared for the cold, and he gasps as their body is submerged under freezing water. Arms and legs tense; they sink. His throat convulses and the breath is squished from his lungs.

The Spirit takes a moment to regain movement. When he does, his actions are jerky. He, too, experiences the cold: his body shivers, and his breath come in ragged pants as his head breaks the surface and gasps for air. As the Spirit flails in the water, struggling to keep his head up, Ryou pushes him aside and takes control of the body. Suddenly everything is more intense – the cold, the waves, the weight.

It takes Ryou a few minutes to regain control of his body. He takes slow, deep breaths to calm himself. As his circulation kicks in, Ryou regains movement of his arms and legs. He treads water as he waits for his body to adjust to the frigid temperature.

 _Not so easy, eh?_ the Spirit taunts. There is a hint of chagrin in his voice from losing control of his body.

 _I can swim better. Now let me focus._ Once Ryou is sure that he will not drown, he takes a deep albeit shaky breath and opens his eyes. The cones of the Ring point downwards; the Puzzle is below him. Ryou takes one more breath before diving down. The salt burns his eyes and he closes them, but he keeps one hand out to feel the shift of the Ring's cones.

_It's a bit hard to see with your eyes closed._

Ryou bites back a reply and focuses on feeling the pull of the Puzzle. He wonders if he will find Yuugi down here too. A scary thought – finding your friend's body. Ryou also wonders how far down the Puzzle will be. He can't swim to the bottom of the _ocean_. Yet the pull of the Ring becomes stronger the deeper he goes, so Ryou assumes that the Puzzle must be caught on something.

He loses his breath too soon and has to return. Before he goes to surface, he opens his eyes for a second. The ocean is as black as night. Microscopic life swims past his eyes. There isn't a glimmer of gold in sight.

He returns to surface with a gasp and a cough. Ryou swims to the side of the pier and clings to the wood. His body shakes and his hands struggle to hold onto the pier.

 _Your turn_ , he says to the Spirit. As a response, Ryou feels himself falling back. He returns to his soul room with his RPG dioramas and occult paraphernalia. The biting cold remains, so Ryou buries himself under two blankets and watches as the Spirit swims under the dark waters. The Spirit manages to keep his eyes open – though the stinging becomes fierce enough that Ryou feels it from his soul room – but only swims for three minutes. By this point, their body's fingers have gone blue.

The two of them continue to take turns, with each turn becoming shorter as their body battles the cold. On the Spirit's fourth turn, he finds something _hanging_ from the bottom of the pier. It appears to be a hanging shelf, extending beneath the dock to catch falling garbage. The sides are raised to keep the drifting litter on its surface; everything moves with the gentle current.

The Spirit examines it with a hand. Ryou had never heard of a garbage collector _underneath_ this pier, but he assumes that this how they keep garbage out of the ocean.

 _Check the pier,_ Ryou says. The Spirit complies. If the Puzzle was thrown off the pier, it would've sunk to the bottom … or so thinks Ryou if he were suddenly not being thrown underwater, eyes squeezing shut, breath choking in his throat as he struggles to maintain air. The Spirit pushes him down under, controlling his body from inside. Ryou dislikes this sort of control. It's manipulative. It reminds him of a puppet master pulling the strings of a marionette. Ryou can see everything, feel it, but he cannot react or respond.

Instead of giving the Spirit the satisfaction of scaring him, Ryou lets the Spirit have him. He floods his feelings, his emotions to the Spirit. Soon both of them can feel the cold, the pulse of the ocean's heart under the waves, the sting of the salt on their eyes and skin.

When they reach the shelf, Ryou wrestles control back. He drops his hands on the shelf, palms flat so that he can glide them over the surface. Barnacles have made a permanent home on the glossy surface, with an overwhelming amount of garbage lying atop the sea life. Despite Ryou's fearless personality, he cannot help but make a face as he feels slimy silt on his fingertips. He loses control before he can register that the Ring is tugging him forward. The Spirit glides forward like an eel, body moving parallel to the shelf. When the Ring points begin to droop forward, his Darkness extends his arms and sweeps the side. His fingers touch chain. They grasp it. The end of the Puzzle rises up, but where there should be an inverted Puzzle is two pieces that managed to hold together – two pieces that refused to let go of each other.

 _It's broken_ , Ryou says. His voice travels a million leagues underwater. The hollow words reverberate off the dock; the water thrums. A chasm opens up inside of Ryou, tearing him in half. He can _feel_ his Other's frustration pouring into him.

 _It's missing. It's gone. We lost the Puzzle._ Ryou isn't sure who is in control now. The body moves on its own to the surface, and when they break water, Ryou's mind doesn't comprehend that he's purging water from his system until he feels his raw throat.

 _They're still down there,_ he says to his Other Half.

 _All the pieces are down there. I know it._ Ryou doesn't interrupt to say that they already hold two of the pieces. Not all hope is lost. They have _something._

 _How many?_ Ryou asks.

_Thirty-three. Exactly._

Ryou wonders how his Darkness knows the exact number.

They waste no time before plunging down again, and again, and again. Sometimes they find two or three pieces in a row; other times they come to the surface empty-handed. Determination fuels both of them to go under. Ryou knows the importance of the Puzzle to both Yuugi and the Spirit of the Ring.

 _Will the Pharaoh know that we're helping him?_ Ryou asks. His numb fingers push the Puzzle pieces into his pockets. A chill has set into his body that makes his arms quiver and his bones rigid. He cannot bend his fingers, so he settles for scooping the pieces off the shelf.

 _The Pharaoh is_ asleep _,_ the Spirit of the Ring says _. He's not in this world anymore._

_He's not aware of us._

_He's aware that someone is touching the Puzzle and that they can wield Millennium Items, but no, he's not aware that it is us helping him._

By the time they find all thirty-three pieces, for neither of them would give up, the moon gives more light than the sun, and the water is silver not gold. Ryou looks to the city, to the sky, to the ocean, and wonders where the secret dueling field is. Where is Yuugi?

* * *

Later, they return to their apartment, cold and downtrodden. Ryou cannot stop shivering. He thinks of taking a shower, crawling into pyjamas with a cup of tea and a book, and resting for the night. However, his mind thinks of the simplest solution: lie down on the couch. So he does in his wet clothes, with his dirty hair sticking to his pallid face. The TV blares in his eardrums, but he doesn't bother to turn it off or pay attention until he hears the words “– Battle City is cancelled”.

In a surge of newfound strength, Ryou throws his head up. He squints to see the picture on the screen. The backdrop of a stadium is familiar to Ryou – KaibaCorp has been working on this latest building for a few weeks. However, Ryou's lucid mind can only focus on the prominent figure glaring daggers at the news reporter: Kaiba Seto is described as cold, but this expression is lethal.

“Due to unforeseen circumstances, I will not be able to host the Battle City quarter-finals. KaibaCorp apologizes to all duelists involved in the tournament. Compensation will be delivered promptly.” His voice is tense, his body rigid. Each word that he says seems to imply that something happened that was out of Kaiba's control. Ryou doubts that. Most problems can be solved with monetary bribery, unless what the client seeks isn't money.

 _Kaiba looks pissed_ , his darker half comments.

Ryou sighs, which turns into a sputtering cough. _I can't see him cancelling a city-wide tournament. Do you think he was blackmailed into it?_

 _Blackmail a billionaire? Heh, only a fool like Ishtar would go after a megalomaniac. I'm tempted to believe that something didn't go his way and he shut everything down – a missing card, for example._ The Spirit pauses. _Wasn't Kaiba after the God cards?_

Ryou, too, pauses. He remembers overhearing Kaiba talk about his God card, the Giant God Soldier of Obelisk, but he hadn't thought of the duel monster as pivotal in Seto's plan to defeat the Other Yuugi. Ryou doubts that Kaiba lost the card: the only known duelist strong enough to defeat Kaiba Seto is Mutou Yuugi and the Spirit of the Millennium Puzzle.

_Do you think Malik-kun took the God cards?_

_Unlikely._ Ryou rolls his eyes. The spirit continues: _Ishtar wants revenge. The God cards are good enough to defeat the Pharaoh, but perhaps he's no longer interested in winning a duel against the Pharaoh._

Ryou nods. His fingers are still blue. The cut on his arm stings from the salt water and bloods drips onto his floor. Ryou considers getting up and showering – how long has it been since he bathed? Or eaten? Or slept, but there's never time for that. The Spirit often forgets about these basic necessities. However showering would entail standing, and Ryou isn't even sure he's capable of that. He feels _awful._ He is cold, he is hungry, and still the thought of moving anywhere is too much effort.

_Landlord?_

_I'm listening._

A cone of the Ring stabs him in the chest. There's no blood – there's enough of that on the floor right now – but Ryou rubs the area. _Fine, I was ignoring you. Please continue._

 _I was_ saying, the Spirit begins, and oh does his voice hold such narcissism, _that perhaps we should question Ishtar about the Puzzle. I thought he was gathering the final Puzzle Cards, but perhaps he detoured from his plans and challenged Mutou Yuugi._ A dark feeling begins to spread through Ryou. It feels as though his heart and mind are being swallowed by a great beast.

When the Spirit speaks, his voice his unhinged: _Ishtar Malik broke the Millennium Puzzle._

The room grows dark and the lights flicker. Shadows spread along the walls in horrifying yet mesmerizing patterns. Fractal-like tendrils stem from the corners of the room. Smaller shapes, round like marbles, roll out from underneath the floorboards. Ryou has seem the Spirit get mad. It's beautiful. The power within him – the great dark beast – stays dormant most of the time, but when his emotions override his conscience (or what remains of it), Ryou sees the true form of Shadow Magic explode like antimatter across the backdrop of his apartment. He half expects the magic to manipulate his Monster World figures and take control of them like hell-bent marionettes … or, in a humorous thought, he expects them to clean up the bloodstains like the brooms in _The Sorcerer's Apprentice._

The Spirit appears in the centre of the room, dressed in a black trench coat that helps him blend into the Shadows that prowl the room. His eyes glow madly; Ryou feels through their link. His emotions are wild; no longer gentle waves, but a maelstrom of violent thoughts and actions that batter his own mind. And yet Ryou stands, entranced. His other self is difficult to speak to when he is in this state, but Ryou still asks questions.

_Are you going after Malik-kun?_

No response.

 _You'll need a strategy. You always have one._ Ryou sits up and leans forward. He meets the other's gaze with the promise of challenge. _Not that you always follow it – contingency is the key to success. But you can't just leave and kill Malik-kun. So what are you going to do?_

And despite the distant tug of reality telling him not to interfere, to go through life ignoring the “call of the occult”, Ryou finds himself spending the semi-finals on his futon, bloodied, cold, and hungry, and strategizing. When the Spirit's mind touches his and Ryou can feel the Shadows, he presses close.

_Random events will always happen._

The Spirit smiles. _An enemy of the Pharaoh's is an enemy of mine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to poppy who has inspired most of the headcanons that build up this fic ♥


	3. Chapter 3

Kaiba Seto paces the room, unsure of how he's expected to respond to this. A part of him wants to yell. Perhaps hitting something will release the tension; his fingers flex at the idea. But his public image tells him that he should be the calm, cool, and collected businessman that the media sees of him. To the side, Mokuba sits with his feet upon the chrome desk – cold as his heart – and his arms crossed.

“It could have been worse.”

No one wants to hear that pitiful, optimistic phrase. It's realistic: the possibilities of a catastrophic outcome are too numerous to count. But at the same time it's demeaning. Seto knows that worse things could happen. He doesn't need his little brother to tell him the obvious. Yes, it could have been worse. Someone could have died (which very well could have happened, given that Yuugi and Jounouchi were chained to an anchor). However, the headlines of every Saturday morning newspaper read the same spiel: “KAIBA SETO STOPS BATTLE CITY!”

Ishizu was wrong. She lied to him. When Jounouchi kicked the Millennium Puzzle into the sea, more than just golden pieces sailed into the ocean. Seto Kaiba saw Yuugi's pride as a duelist sink to the bottom. He saw the courage and determination slip from him. And then Mutou Yuugi walked away from it. The boy whose destiny (if Seto can use the word without gagging) is to be the 'King of Games' dropped out of the largest city-wide tournament. It makes no sense.

Seto wants revenge, but how can he achieve that when his opponent refuses to duel?

“Big Brother, let's find something else to do.”

Right, right. He has a company to run. He can't break down. Seto stops pacing. He takes a deep breath. He takes his phone out of his pocket and dials a number well-known in his head.

“Yes, hello, this is Kaiba Seto. I need a search team to locate something for me – a golden Puzzle. It should be at the bottom of the ocean.” A pause. “I don't care _what_ it takes. This is important. I also need you to locate two foreigners: Ishtar Ishizu and Ishtar Malik. Both dangerous. Thank you.” End conversation.

“Who's that?” Mokuba asks.

“Coast Guard.” Seto grabs his jacket and keys, and with a brief 'bye' he is out the door. It's an overcast day with the promise of rain: Seto takes the company car and tells his chauffeur to take him to the suburbs. The ride is silent. Brooding.

A part of Seto tells him that he is handling his disappointment well – he's not overreacting. He has not plotted any exaggerated plans. He slept last night, albeit for a few hours, and his mind has thought of other things besides having to cancel the tournament. However, he's still acting on it. Seto steps out of the car onto the little pavement before the Kame Game Shop. Yuugi's grandfather is outside cleaning the mailbox and he looks up when he sees his visitor.

“Good morning, Kaiba-kun!” he greets.

“Good morning.” Seto looks up and sees that Yuugi's window is closed and the blinds are drawn. “Is Yuugi awake?”

The man frowns. “No,” he says at length. “He's out with his friends. Can I help you with anything?”

“I need to speak with him.”

The man sets down his cloth and approaches Kaiba. “Right now my grandson's got a lot on his mind. He needs a few days off. I can give him a message, though –”

“Unnecessary,” Seto interjects. The older man's tone is cautious. He doesn't know that Seto was there when the Millennium Puzzle was kicked into the ocean. Seto knows everything. Just as the Pharaoh has been on Yuugi's mind, Seto has not stopped thinking about the loss of his rival. “I need to know where Yuugi is right now. This concerns the Battle City tournament –”

“My grandson is no longer a part of your tournament. He withdrew.” The older man takes a breath. “And as I recall seeing this morning on the news, your tournament is cancelled. I don't see why you have any business with him, Kaiba Seto. I don't think my grandson or I can help you. Have a good day.” The man turns his back on Seto and resumes cleaning.

“Yesterday,” Kaiba begins, voice low, “one of the main contestants of the largest Duel Monsters tournament in Japan backed out. Without forfeiting his six Puzzle Cards, it was impossible to run the semi-finals. Furthermore, another contestant, Jounouchi Katsuya, did not enter the semifinals despite collecting the requisite Puzzle Cards. Without their participation – which was required by agreeing to join the tournament – I was forced to cancel the tournament. I have come today to speak to them about their grave choices.”

Throughout Seto's speech, he watches Yuugi's grandfather. The man remains silent. His eyebrows knit together and he wrings his hands. When Seto's voice grew deeper, his expression became darker. Seto hopes the man understands that he isn't simply _annoyed_ with Jounouchi and Yuugi's withdrawal – he is irate. His blood boils when he thinks of the defiance that Yuugi had to leave the tournament – no, to leave _dueling_ behind.

“Yesterday, my grandson lost someone he loved very much.”

“He lost a relic.”

“He lost a _friend_ , Kaiba Seto. There was someone in the Millennium Puzzle, whether you believe me or not, and he was Yuugi's friend. He was a friend of many, and to lose someone with whom you've shared part of your life with is something that you cannot understand. Yes, my grandson and the Pharaoh withdrew from the tournament. Yes, my grandson has given up dueling. But those were _his_ choices. No matter how much power you have over this city or these people, my grandson does not follow your orders.”

Seto laughs. He does not bother to hide it. No, his sanity is gone.

“His choices? Do you think Yuugi would truly give up dueling? No. He is a duelist. He and Pharaoh are chosen. They – you can't give up your passion because something gets you down. And you can't let him. He doesn't need someone to accept his choices; he needs someone to challenge him –”

“And you have the right to? Kaiba Seto, you do not control my grandson. The Pharaoh may have been your rival, but he was Yuugi's friend. We will get the Pharaoh and the Puzzle back, but none of this business concerns you.” He brandishes the cloth like a weapon, holding it in both hands, knuckles white. “ _Good day_.”

Seto opens his mouth to say something more, but then he holds his tongue. Smiles. Thinks. “I could get the Puzzle back for you.” The older man says nothing, but Seto knows that he has him caught. Seto even suspects that Yuugi may have considered asking for his assistance. After all, Seto has contacts. He can get jobs done, either covertly or plastered across every headline on newspaper, television stations, and websites.

“We don't need your assistance.”

“And how else do you expect to get the Puzzle back, old man?” Seto steps forward – a challenge. “The Puzzle is at the bottom of the ocean. I saw it sail into the sea, broken in a hundred tiny pieces because your grandson's fool of a friend kicked it in. Those gold pieces will sink like rocks. I doubt you have the knowledge or money to get them back. To you, they are _gone_.” Seto reaches into his pocket and extracts a business card. “But I know people. I've already spoken this morning to the Japan Coast Guard and asked them to search for it. I'm expecting a call back tonight. And if that doesn't work, I'm sure there is some skilled diver that's willing to plunge down there for me. There's always options. You just need the honour to speak to them and the money to bribe them … and I have both.”

The old man is silent. Seto prompts him for a response by crossing his arms and taking one more step forward. He has dealt with ruthless businessmen before, so speaking to a young-at-heart shop owner is comparable to having a menial street conversation. However, there is something about the man that has always unnerved Seto. This man is wise. This man has gone places – Egypt, Seto assumes, because how else does Yuugi have such a fascination for the foreign country – and seen things that would make any average citizen squirm. And so has Seto. Being able to relate to someone on some level unnerves Seto because for all of his life he has lived with people who _didn't_ understand the circumstances in which he grew up in – where there was death and men and survivals of the wisest and richest. Have you ever hurt someone you knew? Did they forgive you? Seto asks himself these questions each night as he dreams about how he escaped his adopted father.

“And you will do this for Yuugi? No, you do this for yourself.” The tone is accusing.

“Exactly.” Seto turns his back on the man and walks to his car.

“What you're doing is nice, Kaiba Seto.” Seto turns around and laughs. The old man continues: “But you are not a nice person. Do not hurt Yuugi in your goal to seek revenge. You'll be no better than Malik.”

Seto shrugs, ignoring how these words are beginning to get under his skin. “Who said I'm doing this for Yuugi? I'll get the Puzzle on my own.” And with that Seto exits. The conversation is done. Yuugi is not going after the Puzzle, so Seto will get it for him. Then Yuugi will take it back, and the Other Yuugi will duel Kaiba. Ishizu's predictions may have been off, but Seto still trusts the woman.

* * *

“We should do this more often,” Jounouchi says around a mouthful of crepe. Blueberry jam sticks to the corners of his lips and more drips onto his fingers. “Hang out, I mean.”

“Oh, I thought you meant eat out,” Honda says, rolling his eyes.

“We should do more of that too,” Jounouchi says. He and Honda laugh together. Next to them, Anzu clenches her crepe tight in her fists. Her breakfast remains untouched, though whenever Yuugi looks to her, she smiles a fake smile and asks him how his tastes. Shizuka has tagged along for this trip, too.

The group walks along one of the main roads in the heart of Domino. Unlike during Battle City when the streets were filled with clumps of fans circled around duelists, there are cars and buses on the roads, and people are walking instead of standing. Twice someone comes up to Yuugi and tells him that they're sorry that the tournament was cancelled, and that they were rooting for him all along.

“You've got fans,” Anzu says.

None of them mention Yuugi's refusal to play Magic & Wizards. When they pass game shops, they turn a blind eye, or point to something mundane next to it, like a dry-cleaning place with a cutesy character in front of it. Anything to draw attention from the elephant in the room.

“We should go to the shrine today,” Honda says when the group becomes too silent. “Shizuka-chan, what do you think?”

“Game plan, Honda-kun,” Anzu reminds him. “Before we go window-shopping –”

“Who says we're going window-shopping?” Jounouchi interjects.

“– we're going to go to the hospital for Bakura-kun's release. If he's up to it, we can take him along, but if not we'll have to take him home first. I don't want him passing out on the train.”

“Right, right,” Honda says. “And then we'll go to the shrine.”

“Window-shopping,” Anzu says, voice a pitch higher than his. She looks to Yuugi for confirmation - they need something fun, something to take their minds off the loss. Being in a shrine might bring solace to others, but Anzu suspects Yuugi will only drown himself in his thoughts.

“Right.” Why is she looking at him? Yuugi does not know. He has been silent for most of the walk, only opening his mouth to say a monosyllabic phrase, or to answer the questions of the naive duelists who approached him to say that he was their role model. Yuugi couldn't bring himself to crush the kids' hopes by saying, 'Well, that's great, but it turns out that I don't duel'. Could he truly say that to a child?

The city becomes more crowded as they approach the hospital. Buses, ambulances, and hundreds of people attempt to navigate the mess of a parking lot. Yuugi spots eight different entrances and wonders which one is the “real” entrance. Shizuka, however, has been to this hospital before.

“It's more modern than I remember. I haven't been here in five years, and yet they've added so much more.”

“Five years?” Anzu echoes. “But I thought you just came back to Domino. Jounouchi never talked about having his sister in the area.”

“Didn't have visitation rights,” Jounouchi mutters. “She was here in Domino all right. I just couldn't see her.”

Yuugi remembers Jounouchi telling him the story. Shizuka had gone to the Domino hospital for a minor procedure, and though her big brother lived not a half hour away, her mother forbade the siblings from seeing each other. In anger, Jounouchi had stormed through the hospital and banged on the door, but his mother never opened it for him. Jounouchi had to be removed from the hospital.

Shizuka leads them through entrance number three, which has many large, red signs shouting 'EMERGENCY'. There are many rows of occupied seats, and two desks with beautiful receptionists sitting behind them. While Yuugi takes in the view of twenty pairs of eyes staring at the group, Shizuka approaches the desk on the left with apprehension.

“Excuse me,” Shizuka begins. The lady at the counter, red hair and red scrubs, looks up and smiles. “I'm here to pick up Bakura Ryou. He's being released today.

“Bakura-kun?” the lady echoes. Shizuka nods. The woman chews her lips.

“One moment please.” She dials a number on the desk phone and lifts the receiver to her ear. The conversation Yuugi hears doesn't tell him much other than that the receptionist and the person on the other end of the line are speaking about Bakura. Only the conversation doesn't sound good. Yuugi watches the receptionist pull at her clothes and hair, frown, and shoot “all is well” glances at the group of anxious teenagers.

When the receptionist does get off the line, she sets the phone down all too carefully and straightens her blouse. “Um ...”

“Kawai.”

“Kawai-san, thank you. Unfortunately there was an incident last night involving your friend Bakura-kun.” Yuugi's stomach drops. “When we checked his room last night after he was dropped off, the boy had disappeared. The camera feeds show him leaving through a window last evening. We've sent reports to the police asking them to keep a look-out for the boy.”

“Last evening?” Anzu says. She turns to Yuugi. “Didn't we just leave the pier at that time. We were supposed to be on our way to the semi-finals. You don't think he went after us?” Her voice slips, falls silent. Yuugi feels her worry. He takes her hand.

“I can't see him having the strength to that,” Yuugi says. “Jounouchi-kun said he barely had the strength to stand when Namu brought him over. And you, ma’am, said that he left through the window? Which floor was he on?”

“The twelfth,” the receptionist answers.

“It must be the Other Bakura. Our friend Bakura-kun couldn't have climbed out of the window. He's not that crazy.” Yuugi swallows. He knows that he must be the leader in this situation, but it's hard. He's always had the Other Yuugi there to handle the strategies and plans. Now it's Yuugi's turn to lead his friends.

“Excuse me, but may we see his room?”

“It's occupied,” the woman says.

Shizuka is firm. “He was in the emergency department, right? I … I think we ought to be able to look around. And I'd like to collect his belongings.” Yuugi watches the girl with amazement. She is bold, headstrong, but still polite. The nurse, still behind the desk and before them, does attempt to argue with her, but she can't deny the girl the right to retrieve her friend's belongings (even if she's never met him before). However, the nurse plainly states that non-medical staff cannot enter the department.

“Please wait while I get his belongings.”

As she exits, Shizuka rounds on them. She tucks her long read hair behind her ears and leans in towards them, as though about to reveal a secret. “There's something odd about this,” she begins.

Jounouchi leans in closer. “Do tell, little sis.”

“She said that the video tapes recorded Bakura-kun leaving from the twelfth floor –”

“Which is impossible due to his injury,” Jounouchi interrupts. Shizuka shoots him a withering look.

“Yes, brother, but that's not what's bothering me. We're in the emergency department right now and we're on the ground floor. That's usually where emergency patients are treated. So how could Bakura-kun has left from a twelfth-floor window if his designated 'room' was on the first floor.”

Yuugi bites his lip. He remembers seeing many red signs saying that they were in emergency, but he didn't clue in to the fact that Bakura scaled a wall when he left yesterday. If the Other Bakura did want to leave, why would he run up to the twelfth floor to leave? He could've been trying to avoid detection, but even the Spirit would know that there are cameras recording every corner of the hospital. What or who was on the twelfth floor?

While his friends chat, Yuugi sneaks off and examines the board. There are fourteen floors; the twelfth floor reads 'SURGERY'. _That makes sense,_ thinks Yuugi. _Bakura-kun went to seek medical attention of his own. There's probably minor narcotics and bandages here that he could steal. And patients are encouraged to walk around after surgery, so he wouldn't be seen as odd if he was waltzing down the hallways._

Anzu comes to stand beside him. “What do you think?”

“I think the Other Bakura had a plan.” He turns to Shizuka and motions for her to come close. He points to the floor chart. “If Bakura-kun was on the twelfth-floor, would they know he was supposed to be in emergency?”

“Well, you shouldn't be able to go from emergency to the twelfth-floor – or any floor in general. You can always leave emergency, but you can't switch departments. So since he managed to get there, if anyone saw him they must've just assumed he was a patient taking a stroll.”

“And the room he was in?” Honda presses. “He must've been in someone else's room. Wouldn't they notice?”

“It was approaching night.”

“Wait a second – how'd he get the window open?”

Shizuka rolls her eyes, as though this is common knowledge. “Windows open quite easily in the surgery wing. There's a low risk of suicide. If anything, you want the windows open to get some fresh air and sunshine into the rooms.” She pauses. “All Bakura-kun would need to do is remove the netting and climb out. I don't know your friend that well, but if he's good at climbing, then it shouldn't have been hard.”

Yuugi is impressed at the wealth of knowledge Shizuka has. This is the most the girl has said since she came to watch her brother duel (for his life) at the pier. She had seemed so meek then – a fragile angel that had been untouched by the darkness shrouding her family. However, Yuugi sees that Shizuka is more than an angel – she is a modern-day Joan of Arc. There is beauty and fragility in her looks, but her actions are backed by a will stronger than steel. Just like her brother, her determination and courage knows no bounds.

“So do we need to get into that room then?” Jounouchi presses. “How are we sneaking in?”

“We don't have to,” Yuugi says. He explains to them his hypothesis about Bakura's choice of department. Shizuka agrees with him.

“He probably bandaged himself up and then left. But since Bakura-kun is still a minor, they'll be searching for him. He can't leave the hospital without being checked out.” She adjusts the strap of her backpack, eyes alight. “The first place to check would be his apartment, right?”

Yuugi nods. Bakura doesn't have anywhere else to go, except if his other self is hiding in some alley. Yuugi hopes not. He wishes he could just believe that his schoolmate left the hospital because he needed to study, or because he thought that he was well enough. Leaving through the window puts a spin on it though. His friend wouldn't do that; the Spirit would.

With the business completed, Shizuka leads them out of the hospital, past the cream-walls, tired faces, and red 'EMERGENCY' signs that Yuugi had seen on the way in. Outside, Yuugi counts the windows up to the twelfth floor. He tries to imagine Bakura climbing down the building. There are window-sills to hold onto. If the boy had the strength (which he shouldn't have because his arm was bleeding) he could've lowered himself down using the sills as hand-holds. It would have been difficult, though; it was dark and cold and windy.

The group heads towards the central train station. Everyone minus Shizuka has visited Bakura's apartment before, either to check to see if the boy is alive or to meet up with him. Yuugi remembers many trips on the train with Jounouchi to see if Bakura was bored and wanted to go to the game store.

“Let me call his house to see if he's home,” Anzu says. She pulls out her phone and dials his number, but the voice she hears is the answering machine, trilling, 'This is Bakura Ryou. Please leave a message and I'll answer as soon as I can. Thank you very much.'

“Maybe he's sleeping,”Jounouchi suggests. “If I was scaling walls last night, I'd be sleeping in too.”

Honda scoffs. “If he's possessed, I doubt he's sleeping. I doubt he's even home.”

This seems to bug Anzu. She growls and turns on Honda. “And where do you suggest we look? What's your plan?”

Affronted, Honda raises his hands in a surrendering gesture. Yuugi glances from Honda to Anzu. The girl seems upset: she clutches her phone in her hand tight enough to strain the pink case.

“I don't hear you trying very hard to help.”

“I'm thinking!” Honda snaps. He stands up stiffer, and Yuugi sees a flash of the “old Honda” - the bully Hiroto Honda who used to tease young children and perv on girls. People on the train platform look at the group of yelling teenagers. Yuugi feels self-conscious. He makes a reach for Anzu's hand, but the girl pulls away and challenges Honda by stepping closer.

“Well think harder! You're not doing a lot to help the situation!”

“Please, let's stay calm!” Shizuka says. She places her hands between them, attempting to create a peace barrier. However, they ignore her. Yuugi wants to cover his ears in fear. He can only suspect that this problem isn't _just_ about finding Bakura: it's about the responsibility of the overall problem. Who has taken responsibility for this situation? Not Yuugi.

Honda shoves his hands into his jeans pockets and stomps off.

“Hey, don't ditch us!” Jounouchi calls. “We stick together, you jerk! How do you think you're gonna find Bakura on your own? How do you think you're gonna do anything on your own!”

Honda flips him off, and when he speaks his voice is as hard as ice. “I doubt calling his house will bring him back. I bet he's hiding out somewhere. He wanted to get to the finals, too, y'know.”

Yuugi cannot argue with Honda. He watches his friend saunter off without a backwards glance. Anzu and Jounouchi are seething next to him, though they are upset for different reasons. Yuugi suspects that Anzu is **mad** because Honda is not helping them find Bakura or the Pharaoh. Jounouchi is **angry** because Honda left them after yelling. Shizuka, a few feet away, seems concerned with the patterns on her shoes, and doesn't join in when Anzu begins to rebuild a conversation with “Should we visit his apartment or go home?”

“You thought it was a good idea before,” Jounouchi comments. Anzu glares at him. “What I meant was that we should follow your plan.”

“That's right,” Yuugi says. He tries to make his voice light-hearted, though it seems to come off as squeaky. “Even if the Other Bakura is in control, I doubt he'll charge off. He's smart. He'll let the body recover.”

“So … we should go to his apartment?” Jounouchi says at length. “Because if not, I'm considering going after some other idiots – Honda, Kaiba, and Malik, to name a few. All for different reasons.”

Though the mood is dark, Yuugi laughs. “No, Jounouchi-kun, let's go to Bakura-kun's apartment.”

With the plan in action, Yuugi finds the trip going much quicker. They board a train that takes them to a middle-class suburb decorated with pastoral views and whitewashed buildings. However, after the first ten minutes, Yuugi can sense his interest beginning to wane. He wonders if this is truly a good idea, or if it is an excuse to stop thinking about the Other Yuugi.

“Why does he live all the way out here?” Jounouchi says.

“It's cheaper,” Anzu says. “And it's beautiful.”

Yuugi has to agree. Though he doesn't know much about Bakura, he feels the boy craves aesthetic appeal that can't be found in the inner-city streets. The Pharaoh liked quiet places too. Yuugi remembers speaking with his darker half about the pleasant views they had when they participated in Duelist Kingdom. He had preferred places where he felt connected – connected to what, Yuugi is unsure, but even he can relate to the desire to feel part of something … or someone. The connection is deep.

Once off the train, Yuugi focuses on locating Bakura's apartment. The population in this rural community is old – grey hair decorates the heads of a hundred hunch-backed, cane-crawling old-timers. Yuugi remembers the first time they visited Bakura's apartment, and how Jounouchi had cracked a joke about Bakura “fitting right in with the community”. The Spirit of the Puzzle had laughed enough to bring tears to his eyes, until Jounouchi began poking fun at his Other Self's artistic hairstyle.

“Will Bakura-kun … or the Other Bakura ...” Shizuka trails off, uncertain how to begin the question. Yuugi realises that he and Jounouchi may need to give her a crash course on 'Ancient Egyptian Spirits 101' sooner rather than later.

“Bakura will be willing to help,” Anzu supplies. “He's friends with the – the Other Yuugi. The Other Bakura though … He might help.”

“If he sees benefit in it, he'll go after Malik.” Yuugi leads them down a quiet road lined with floral plants. Yuugi spots Ryou's apartment a few feet down, all white walls and wooden accents. Most of the balconies have colourful paraphernalia hanging from the railings. Because of Ryou's obsession with the occult, Yuugi often wonders if his neighbours share similar interests, and thus Yuugi finds the eclectic decorations only in his friend's neighborhood.

Shizuka, however, sees the condos with naive eyes. “It's gorgeous! He's so lucky to live in such a nice part of town!” She clasps her hands together, eager to go inside.

The lobby area sports the same neutral tones, with splashes of honey-brown wall-paper along an accent wall and an assortment of earthy-toned pots, although the plants within them are a vivid green Yuugi's only seen in photographs of the rainforest. There are no people in the lobby, but on the trip up six floors of stairs, Yuugi meets many of his friend's neighbours.

“Good afternoon,” Anzu says to a man sitting outside of his apartment. “Have you seen Bakura-kun recently?”

“Bakura-kun? No, sorry. He's been out for a while.”

Jounouchi leans in close to Yuugi. “That means Bakura-kun isn't home …?”

“Or maybe he scaled another wall,” Yuugi whispers back, and he cannot help but snicker at the thought. Maybe that's what he needs to cure this depression: inappropriate laughter.

However, the laughter dies in Yuugi's throat as he spots the door ajar. Yuugi pushes the door open more and peers inside. There are wet shoes on the genkan, pointed towards the door but still in far worse shape than Yuugi has ever seen. Puddles are dotted along the wood floor in a drunk line that leads towards the living room. (Yuugi cuts out the possibly of Bakura climbing the condo's balconies to reach his house.) The rest of the house, however, is untouched: there are no dirty dishes in the kitchen; the bed is made; there are no towels hanging to dry in the bathroom. Everything in Bakura's house seems to be in its proper place. Yet it is bare. The only decorations on the walls are small memorabilia from his father's trips. Each room seems stripped of life with only the cream walls and white accents. Even the boy's room is too simple: a bed, a dresser, a desk, a bookcase.

The only room that looks inhabited (minus the puddles that litter the floor) is the living room. Bakura's Monster World table is an elaborate behemoth that stretches half the length of the room. On one end sits an imposing castle; the other end, a placid village. The large forest field that Yuugi had played on before is missing, and instead Bakura has created a carnival-themed location with large circus tents, iron cages with great beasts inside, and a plethora of tacky-looking figurines. Despite the beautiful display, a peek underneath the table shows that Bakura can be messy. The stacks of rule books, diagrams, character stat sheets, and story lines lean towards each other, threatening to tip at any moment. Many location sets are covered by a thick layer of dust.

The obsession of Monster World does not stop. Yuugi remembers being in Bakura's room and noticing that only half of his bookshelf held academic textbooks; the other half was more rule books and campaigns – both in Japanese and English – that Yuugi figures costs about as much as buying three brand-new decks of Magic & Wizards cards. Some of these books now lie on the couch, which also holds more papers. Then there are Bakura's figurines, which decorate the walls in three lines, each of one-hundred characters. Yuugi swallows. Bakura had once told him that his darker half used to seal his friends' souls into Monster World figurines. Though Bakura had stated that his darker half had released all their souls, Yuugi still wonders why his friend has the most realistic-looking roleplay figures

“What game is this?” Shizuka dares to ask.

“Monster World,” Jounouchi answers. “Just as Duel Monsters is my and Yuugi's passion, such is Monster World to Bakura. I don't know how the guy affords everything, but yeah, he's obsessed.”

“He made the entire game board and all the characters,” Anzu adds as an afterthought.

Shizuka's mouth hangs open. “All of it?”

“You won't find any dioramas like Bakura-kun's.” Yuugi peers over the side of the coach to notice a large wet spot on the couch. He beckons his friend closer and they all observe. “Why didn't Bakura-kun sleep in his bed?”

“We ask all the obvious questions here,” Jounouchi says. When Anzu glares, he continues: “How about wondering why he's soaking wet? It wasn't raining last night.”

“Sprinkler?” Shizuka suggests with a slight raise of her shoulder.

“Swimming?” Anzu says.

“It was _freezing_ last night. Why the hell would he be running through water?”

Yuugi jumps right in. “Maybe it was an accident. Maybe he fell in. Or maybe not all of him was wet – like maybe his shoes were wet because he walked through a puddle, but the rest of him was dry.”

“Yeah, but it's his assmark on the seat. How does your ass get wet when you run through a puddle?” Jounouchi asks. Shizuka muffles a laugh at her brother's language. Yuugi, however, remains pensive. Bakura would have had to sit on something wet, yet there were no wet areas except the ocean. There are puddles though, meaning that somehow Bakura got himself wet ...

“He went after the Puzzle,” Yuugi says after a moment. Anzu, Jounouchi, and Shizuka turn to look at him, each with their own surprised expression. When Anzu quirks her eyebrows further, indicating that she is confused from where he's pulled this hypothesis out of, Yuugi elaborates: “Bakura-kun – er, the Other Bakura too – has come when the Puzzle is in danger. When Otogi-san took the Puzzle, the Spirit of the Ring came to help. I bet he came to the pier too, only we had already left to go home.”

Jounouchi nods. “Do you think he found it?”

“No,” Yuugi says, slumping his shoulders. He looks around the deserted apartment, to the gentle tones that mask the forlorn feeling emanating from the lifeless decorations, and recognizes that if Bakura had found the Puzzle, he would've found Yuugi. Only Yuugi can put together the Puzzle and save his Other Self' even Bakura knows this. If the Puzzle is still missing, it is because it is lying at the bottom of the ocean.

“Perhaps Bakura-kun went back to the pier?” Shizuka offers. “Would he leave a note for someone to follow him?”

“The Other Bakura likes to work by himself,” Anzu says, looking to Yuugi for confirmation. Yuugi nods; Anzu continues. “He's probably looking for a way to get the Puzzle … and until that happens, we won't see our friend Bakura-kun.” After a moment's pause, Anzu turns down the hallway and walks back towards the door. She kneels down by the wet shoes. “If he's gone, why did he leave his shoes?”

Jounouchi snorts. “I wouldn't want to walk around with wet feet.” Anzu glares at him. With his hands up in mock surrender, Jounouchi adds, “I mean, do you honestly think the Other Bakura would stop to change his shoes because they were _damp_? Bakura probably needed a different type of shoe. Look inside the closet and see what's missing.”

Yuugi heads down the hallway and kneels down with Anzu. He expects to see more than three pairs of shoes, all with similar appearances: brown loafers with dark soles. Bakura doesn't seem to have a strong taste in shoe fashion. However, Yuugi notices the space between pairs two and three, and he points the detail out to Anzu. Bakura _did_ choose new shoes – and judging by his simplistic tastes, these shoes were no different than his others.

“Mystery solved,” Yuugi cheers weakly.

By this point, Jounouchi and Shizuka have moved closer. Jounouchi crouches to examine the mystery. He makes a display of tapping his chin and squinting his eyes, as though he's looking for the next clue. After a minute, he rises. “Well, it appears Bakura wore another boring pair of shoes because his other set got wet. That doesn't say much.”

Shizuka steps forward. “Please excuse me,” she whispers, and she shoves one hand into the pocket of Bakura's black jacket. Yuugi notices that its cuffs are wet and dirty. When Shizuka removes her hand, she holds tight to a crumpled piece of paper upon which there is ink. Yuugi doesn't understand the writing at first, but then he sees the name MCDONALD's, and he understands it's a receipt for a burger and fries.

“It's for today at two o'clock am.,” Shizuka says, pointing to the time-stamp on the top.

Anzu peers over the younger girl's shoulder to see. “That's right by the pier.”

Jounouchi ties the bow on the conversation with, “Well, I'd be hungry too if I was nightswimming.” He turns to Yuugi and shakes his arm. Yuugi's feeling tired by this point; he wants to curl up and close his eyes and dream out the world, only reality is calling him to solve the mystery, solve the Puzzle, solve the future. “Does this mean we know where Bakura went last night? Maybe we could ask someone who worked that night and see if they remember a soaking wet boy coming in for a snack.”

It's worth a shot. Yuugi nods, feeling his mind jumble back and forth like a bowl of marbles, and he begins to slip on his shoes. He is grateful for the strong hand that holds his arm – it's Anzu, he notes, although his mind is too clouded to remember to thank her for grounding him – as they prepare to leave. Before closing the door, Yuugi takes one look inside.

_Bakura-kun, are you helping, or do you too have your own motives? Where do you fit into all of this – and more importantly, where the hell are you?_

Yuugi closes the door with a soft click before following Anzu out. Even when they are hundreds of metres away, she holds him close like an infant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to poppy, without whom this chapter would have been far less exciting ♥


	4. Chapter 4

Cool wind blows in from the window. It caresses Malik's skin, yet he arches away from it, uncomfortable no matter what position he sleeps in. Every light in the room is on, bathing him in a tacky, artificial glow, so that his skin appears sickly yellow. His blond hair sticks to his face; his clothes are pasted onto his body, sweat dripping down his back. It feels like a ghost’s fingers rubbing the raised scars of his back, and it takes all of his willpower not to cry out.

_ou did it_ , Malik tells himself. _You killed the Pharaoh. He has no control over you_. And yet these thoughts are not soothing the pain in his head or the dark thoughts that swirl in a continuous miasma through his mind. Freedom doesn't feel as “freeing” as Malik had imagined, for he is still scared, still alone, still a Tombkeeper. With the Pharaoh gone, Malik knows that Mutou Yuugi and his friends will not come after him for as long as it takes them to retrieve the broken Puzzle from the ocean. Perhaps freedom is not an instant change, but a slow process whereby he learns that he is no longer controlled by fate and purpose; he's creating his destiny now.

But there are drawbacks to this plan. First, Malik lost the chance to duel the Pharaoh fairly and honourably. His “death” had been nothing short of anticlimactic as the vessel of his soul, the Millennium Puzzle, sailed in pieces through the sky before plummeting to the ocean. Next, Malik had not acquired the God card back from Yuugi through the ante rule. The moment the Puzzle was shattered, the boy's friend had broken through his control and Malik hadn't been able to interfere with Yuugi.

Now Malik isn't quite sure what to do. His brother has informed him that his sister is also in Domino City, looking for him through her contacts with the Supreme Council of Antiquities. Malik can't imagine returning to his sister with the bloody hands of a murderer; she will see the light behind the darkness, but all that Malik can see in him is the eternal hatred and loathing. Often times, Malik feels himself disconnecting from reality – pulling away from the world and his family and disappearing into the darkness.

“Malik-sama?” Rishid taps on the door twice but does not open it.

Malik sits up, wincing when he bends too far to one side and feels the skin on his back stretch. It never rips, bruises, or bleeds, yet he cannot sleep on his back or have heavy objects near it without feeling anxiety and pain bubble up in him. “Yes,” he calls out.

Rishid enters, skin assuming the same sickly glow in the yellow light. His dark hair hangs in a long ponytail behind his head. He looks around for a few moments before clearing his throat. “Kaiba Seto has sent out an official missing persons report for you and Ishizu-sama. He's investigating the Ghouls’ connection to the Pharaoh and to Battle City.” A pause. “How will you proceed?”

Malik chews on his lip. Coming to Domino has involved more people that simply the Pharaoh. Malik has met the Puzzle's destined bearer, Mutou Yuugi, whose determination and confidence challenged him in their duel on the pier. He's met Kaiba Seto during his duel against the Pharaoh for Osiris, where he learned of the deep connection between the CEO and the Pharaoh. Malik has met each of Mutou Yuugi's friends separately, and through his relationship with the other Millennium Bearer, Bakura, Malik has manipulated two of Mutou's friends during his duels. Without wishing to become involved, Malik has entwined himself within the complex lives of Mutou and his friends. Malik can only hope they will stay away now that their precious Pharaoh is gone. However, it appears Kaiba Seto is relentless: he's going after Malik by himself.

“Let him follow us; it's not like he's going to find us. We'll be leaving Domino City next week, so no one will have much time to look for us. I've also heard that Kaiba has Obelisk, so we'll need to get that from him, as well as Osiris back from Mutou, before we return to Egypt.”

“And what about Ishizu-sama?”

Malik raises an eyebrow. “What about her?”

“Is she returning with us?”

“No,” Malik says at length. “I want nothing to do with her plans. She'll follow us if she truly wishes.”

“She could come back with us,” Rishid replies after a moment. “It might be safer for her.”

Malik growls in his throat. He stands and grabs the Millennium Rod resting on his desk. The cool metal pulses with dark magic in his palm; Malik has always wondered if perhaps there is something else within these Millennium Items, but unfortunately his ancestors never shared such information with him.

“She can take care of herself,” Malik hears himself say in quiet voice. His sister is strong, desperate, focused; she'll come after him whether he's in Japan or Egypt.

Rishid lingers at the door for a few minutes longer. He seems unsure how to continue – unwilling to push his opinions on Malik, yet desperate to move on. Malik holds his guard until his brother leaves, and once the door closes with an audible _click!_ , Malik is rampant. He paces around the room, throwing his arms back and forth, brandishing the Rod like a weapon. He tries to make himself as big as possible in this cramped room because right now he feels smaller than a bug. He feels weak and insignificant. Wheels churn in his mind to think up delirious thoughts that paint macabre images on the walls.

_I don't like to be alone,_ thinks Malik, and yet he refuses to call for help. He slams his fist on the desk to reassure himself that he can still hear, can still see, can still _feel_ the world closing in on him. Pain blossoms in his chest, spreading to his back and then down his arms; it squeezes and pulls him tight. Malik has felt this kind of pain before: ever since the Initiation, loneliness manifests as a physical pain that tears him to the ground. Malik's legs shake as he struggles to stand and endure the affliction.

For several minutes, he is gasping for breaths in the middle of the room, body rigid. When the pain begins to disperse, he flexes his fingers and shrugs his shoulders. A cold shiver runs down his spine.

Malik heaves a sigh as he stands up as tall as possible and makes his way back to the bed. He lies gingerly on the covers, afraid to press his still-tender back to the velvety sheets and risk crying out in agony, and rolls to his side. The Rod is clasped in his hands and pressed to his chest, held with a death-grip that makes his fingers stiff and cold. Malik struggles to open his mind and caress the deep connections he's made by using the Rod's power, for he also wants to give up and give in. His mind touches several connections before he feels the raw power of the Spirit's, and he holds tight and pushes forward.

When he breaks through, he is in a hallway. The walls are dark stone, wet even though there is no water nearby, and scratched as if nails had been dragged over its surface. Malik steadies himself with a hand against the stone and looks down the corridor. There are small tealights on the ground that cast lonesome flames in the thick darkness. Malik shivers, drawing his arms around his body. He has never been in Bakura Ryou’s mind before, so the dreary sights amaze him.

Along the hallway rest two doors. The first one – the right door – is oak, thick and sturdy, and glowing in the dark atmosphere. The brass handle feels cold on Malik's hand as he grips it tight. He considers not opening for fear of what lies behind, yet he takes the chance because of his determination to find out.

Inside is one room, no bigger than his room on the boat, although it appears far smaller because of the thousands of boxes within. There are crates of all shapes, sizes, and builds in this room. Along one wall rests dozens of cardboard moving boxes with handwritten labels such as 'Christmas 1986' or 'Best of 1990'. There are tall wooden armoires and dressers, their doors and drawers wide open. From the door, Malik cannot see what is inside, yet he spots the contents pooling out of their containers. Bookcases also stand along the walls, lined with books, figurines, folders, and files. The overall atmosphere reminds Malik of an apothecary – the messily organized space is comforting because he no longer feels like the sole inhabitant of the room.

Nearby the boxes is a bed. Malik can see the rise and fall of the blankets. His heart stops at the sight of the body within it. There is no doubt it is Bakura Ryou, the destined host of the Millennium Ring; however, Malik is frozen in place and cannot move closer. The boy dreams with a placid expression on his face. Tucked under his arm is a crumbling, dusty book, its wet ink making impressions along the white bedsheets and along the boy's pale arms.

“Why are you here?” the boy says. Malik's heart jumps into his throat. Ryou's eyes are wide open and seem to be staring into his soul. Slowly, the boy rises, letting go of his book and rubbing at his eyes. “I didn't know you could get in too.”

“I can take control of people whenever I want,” Malik explains. He wonders how his voice sounds; to himself, he feels like his voice is barely above a squeak. Malik doesn't want to say that he is _scared_ of Bakura Ryou because that would imply weakness, yet the way the boy's eyes follow him around the room makes his skin crawl. Had someone crept into his room while he was sleeping, Malik surely would have screamed. Ryou does not seem bothered by his intrusion.

“What brings you here?” Ryou says. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands. He is shorter than Malik by two inches, yet this doesn't help Malik feel any stronger when the boy's soulful eyes gaze into his. While the Spirit always appears guarded and mysterious, Ryou is an open book with an unsolvable mystery: he keeps all his skeletons out of the closet where no one can understand where they're from or how they got there.

“I'm looking for the … Other You. The Spirit. Where is he?”

Ryou sighs. Then clears his throat, wincing at the action. “He's in the other room.” Malik stares. “There are two rooms here. Didn't you see the other one?”

Malik had, in fact, seen two doors. However, he hadn't bothered to pay attention to the second door because he assumed both Bakuras lived together in the same mind. It hadn't occurred to him until now that, even though Bakura Ryou and the Spirit of the Ring share the same body, they are two different souls.

“Are you hoping to visit him?” Ryou asks. His voice bounces around the room; Malik shivers. “You seem … unwell. How can I help?”

“I'm fine,” Malik snaps. “Where is he?”

Ryou steps forward, past Malik, and heads out the door. “Follow me.”

Ryou, shoeless and sockless, takes him out the hallway and down to the other door. Malik can see the other boy shaking, his body thin and pale, yet he appears determined and radiant as he heads towards his Other's room. Malik lags behind, arms still tight around his chest to remind himself that he is still alive.

The second door is nothing like the first one. Bakura Ryou's door is complete, finished, and beautiful; this door is old, chipped, and worn. The dark wood – ebony, Ryou tells him as he strokes the door – has been scratched by deep claws. Malik shivers as his hand ghosts the old, wrought-iron door handle. He takes a deep breath. He can feel the beating of a heart through the handle, and he wonders if it's just his mind playing tricks on him or perhaps there is something alive in the second room.

He turns the handle. It's locked. He can turn the handle as much as he wants, spin it like a top, and yet the door remains closed.

“He's not going to let you in unless he wants to talk to you,” Ryou says. Then the boy turns his attention to the door and he gives two strong knocks. “Spirit, Malik-kun's here.”

Black sludge seeps under the doorway. Malik gasps, withholding a scream only because his fist is shoved into his mouth to muffle the noise, as the viscous liquid pools over his feet. Ryou seems unperturbed by the river of dark sludge covering his translucent feet, and he knocks one more time.

“I – I don't have to speak with him,” Malik says. His voice is barely above a whisper. The sludge begins to churn in the water, becoming white noise to Malik, and he wonders if Ryou can hear him. His breathing quickens, heart pounds in his chest – maybe that's whose heart Malik hears? He can hear his own heart through this dark door, and it’s thumping, growing louder and piercing –

“You're here.”

Malik blinks. The Spirit stands before him, dressed in a black, long-sleeve shirt and dark jeans. His red eyes pierce Malik's, crinkling in the corners – probably from seeing Malik quiver at the doorway to his soul room. Malik attempts to remain confident as he composes himself and demands, “I want to speak with you.”

The Spirit steps aside and extends an arm into his room. “Come on in.” He looks to Ryou, and the look they share make Malik's blood run cold. Ryou looks grave; the Spirit looks irate. Malik wonder if perhaps they can speak telepathically. Perhaps they are conversing about his death, or how they're going to keep him prisoner inside their minds. Malik wouldn't want to be anywhere near here. Yet their expressions remain just that: expressions. Malik can't tell what they are saying, if they are even saying anything, and thinking about this possibilities makes his head spin and his mind hurt.

_You're OK_ _,_ Malik tells himself as he steps over the threshold and into the Other Bakura's soul room.

Inside, the room is sparsely lit with the same tealights that border the corridor. Malik spots dashes of gold lying on the floors, yet everything is enveloped by a thick layer of dark fog. Malik wants to scream. He frets that somehow the darkness will enter him, asphyxiate him from the inside out, and he will be nothing more than a shell of himself upon the Spirit's floor. Unlike Ryou's room, there are no limits: the walls extend as far as his night vision can see before disappearing into the fog. Malik has no doubts that the Spirit's soul is far grander than Ryou's.

Yet it is bare. Besides the gold coins that shine like precious gems on the floor, Malik spots no boxes or memorabilia in the room. Everything is hidden or missing. The heartbeat remains in this room, beating as though they are _inside_ a great beast. Malik keeps his fingers near his mouth should he begin screaming in fear. The darkness on his back is enough to send shivers down his spine.

“What brings you here?” the Spirit asks in a casual tone, swaying from side to side in the darkness.

“I wanted to ask for … help,” Malik begins. He swallows. They are travelling further into the room; behind them, the doorway appears as nothing more than a dim light. Malik is thankful Ryou left the door open, for if not he would never be able to find his way out of the room.

“You've already asked for my help,” the Spirit says. “And now we are done. Mutou Yuugi has pulled out of the tournament; Kaiba Seto has cancelled the tournament because of his withdrawal. Surely you don't need anything else.”

Malik senses a hint of anger in the Spirit's tone. Unfortunately, he cannot see the other's expression to verify this guess. Cautiously, Malik answers, “Both Kaiba and Mutou still have the God Cards. To be Pharaoh, you need all three God Cards.”

“My goal was to help you win Battle City – that is now _over_.” The Spirit's voice booms through the goal; the heartbeat increases.

“There's more to it than that,” Malik says, and he regrets his words the moment they leave his mouth. The Other Bakura rounds on him, grabbing the chains of his shirt and pulling him until they are touching. Malik wheels back, but the Spirit has him trapped. Malik's' heart stops. He gasps for breath, twisting from side to side. “Let me go,” he gasps. He wishes his voice would be stronger.

“I am done with you, Ishtar Malik,” he spits. “I am done with your games. You think you live outside the boundaries? Think again. If you ever try to speak to me, or my host, or Mutou, or any of his friends again, I will see that you never speak again. Are we clear?”

And Malik somehow hears this despite the roaring in his ears. He gasps as dark sludge begins to pool at his feet. The Spirit is smaller than him, and yet he is looking down on Malik with such a fierce expression that it spellbinds Malik. The Spirit releases him after a second, shoving him forward.

“Get out of here,” he snarls, “and never speak to me again.”

Leaning back, Malik adjusts his shirt with shaking hands. “What’s all this to you?” he mutters.

Bakura stands above him. His red eyes glow, and there are other, deadlier red eyes glowing behind him too. “An enemy of an enemy is an enemy of mine.”

Darkness crashes into the room. Malik hurries to his feet and runs, feet pounding on the stone floor. He wishes he could stand his ground, but he is breaking down in the soul room. The beating heart pounds in his ears and shakes the ground as Malik runs away. He throws himself over the threshold and slams into the opposing wall. Ryou peeks out from his own soul room, eyes wide. Malik turns to look at him and wonder how such a gentle boy could live with such a monster. How could he survive being connected to an entity of darkness?

“Malik-kun,” Ryou begins.

Malik breaks the connection and feels himself falling backwards. He lands back into himself, gasping and crying. His throat is sore from where the Spirit's fingers grazed his neck, and there are thick tears rolling down his pallid face. His legs shake beneath him as he rises, making it for the door; he crumbles halfway, tumbling to the ground with an audible gasp. His limbs curl underneath him; Malik can't withhold his tears any longer.

_I'm all alone,_ he thinks, and he holds himself tightly in his room as the sun sets into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to poppy - you make my headcanons believable


	5. Chapter 5

Honda shows up at Jounouchi's house the next day with a handful of rocks in one hand and a pork bun in the other. He chucks the rocks at Jounouchi's window until he hears it open and Jounouchi cry out, “Do you know what the – oh. Hi. Gimme a moment.” He grins sheepishly before closing the window. Honda waits outside, trying to appear nonchalant even though he wonders how Jounouchi will feel: he doesn't regret his actions yesterday because what were they thinking – that Bakura would actually be home resting? No, the Spirit would drag him through the city until his mission was complete.Yet at the same time Honda recognises his bullheaded behaviour, and he hopes Jounouchi won’t tease him for it.

When Jounouchi does come down, Honda notices his offput expression and prepares himself for a fight.

“I didn't expect to see you,” Jounouchi mutters.

“I didn't expect you to wake up,” Honda adds. He holds out the bun as a pitiful peace offering. It's pork filling – not Jounouchi's favourite (he prefers beef) and it's been sitting on his counter overnight because his sister brought home extras. It probably doesn't taste as good as it would have last night, yet Honda hadn't thought about visiting Jounouchi until this morning. The photograph of them on his fireplace mantle looked lonely and forgotten; fighting never brought anyone close together. Thus, he’d taken the food to make up to Jounouchi, and on the way he'd picked up a dozen rocks to chuck at Jounouchi's window to wake him up because Honda, like Yuugi, knows that it's best to wait outside for Jounouchi.

Jounouchi takes the food. “You know how to win me back,” he jokes, looking away. As an afterthought, he adds, “Sorry.”

“I should be sorry,” Honda growls. “I'm the one who acted like a fucking prick yesterday.”

Jounouchi raises an eyebrow; his mouth is full of pork. Swallowing, he says, “You're not really sorry, are you?”

Now it is Honda's turn to look away. “Not really.”

“Good – because you were right. We didn't find a whole lot at Bakura's house. He went after the Puzzle, probably dived into the water like the maniac his Spirit is, and went swimming for it, but I don't think he found it.” Jounouchi clears his throat. “Speaking of that … I was wondering if you wanted to help me bust some heads to get more information.”

Honda shrugs, yet he is aching to know more. “What do you mean?”

“Kaiba's put out a search warrant for Malik and his Ghouls. Now normally I wouldn't want to get involved in any of Kaiba's business, but I think I can help Yuugi out with this. If the Ghouls are a gang, I know the best places to look for them.” It's Jounouchi's grim tone that reminds Honda that Jounouchi knows _exactly_ where to go and who to talk to. Neither of them have been there since junior high, yet the anticipation and anxiety already begin to swirl in his belly as they head towards Domino's west side.

Honda shoves his hands in his pockets as they travel. He and Jounouchi haven't spent much time together ever since their dueling adventures began. On weekends, Jounouchi often heads to Yuugi's house for breakfast or snacks, and free games. Honda tags along some days; other days he takes the trains to Bakura's and drags the boy out of his house. There hasn't ever been a Honda and Jounouchi day since junior high.

“So, how did your day go?” Jounouchi asks. He licks the hoisin sauce from his fingers, then rubs his face clean with his hands. Honda makes a face.

“Same as always. Sis is still living with us, which means Johji's with us, which means whenever Sis goes out with her friends, I'm stuck watching her son like he's my own flesh and blood. It's ridiculous if you ask me; that demon spawn's out to get me. I'm surprised he hasn't slit my throat at night. But yeah … I didn't do anything. I went home and watched dramas.”

Jounouchi laughs. “Well, thank you for taking for taking time out of your busy schedule to come and bust my ass out of my room.”

Honda takes one more turn down a decrepit road before he sees the café. He and Yuugi have been here before with Jounouchi: the same graffitied building, broken sign, and ominous entrance beckon them like worried adolescents in a survival horror game. J'z hosts a reputation of being a hangout for inner-city gangs, especially Hirutani's Rintama High gang. If any news of the Ghouls was being shared, it would happen in this seedy environment.

To prepare himself for the battle, Jounouchi bends down to pick up a board with rusty nails poking out of it.

“The hell are you doing?!” Honda cries upon seeing his friend's weapon. “We're not going in armed. We're going in _peacefully_ to talk with them. If we go in with weapons on display, they're gonna fight back, and I don't care if you think you can take them because our purpose isn't to start a bar fight – it's to get information.”

“You can get information from a good fight,” Jounouchi mutters, but he sets the board down and follows Honda down the stairs to the entrance. The narrow alleyway reeks of piss and vomit, and neither Jounouchi nor Honda dare press up against the walls. The door to J'z is open only because one of the hinges is broken and it hangs out of the doorframe like a marionette with half its strings cut. Honda struggles to see in the dim lighting until he goes into the café and under its eerie strobe lights.

The bar hasn't changed, he realises. There's lighting that highlights skimpy costumes of the local customers, and shady corners that hide illicit activities. Honda doesn't spot Hirutani around, and he breathes a sigh of relief. Even better, Hirutani's hitmen are sitting at the bar, smoking joints and drinking cheap beer. Honda gives Jounouchi a sly look before they both storm forward and grab one of the guys by the neck.

“Listen to me,” Jounouchi growls in his ear. “I've had enough of your gang putting me through shit, so sit down and tell me something. What do you know about a foreign gang called Ghouls?”

The boy breaks free of Jounouchi with a swift uppercut that sends him wheeling backwards. Honda drops his hold on the other guy to tackle Jounouchi's attacker. Meanwhile, Jounouchi aims a kick towards the man's nose.

“Do you know them?” Jounouchi shouts. “Because they're fucking ruining everything I've set up. Hey!” He grabs the man's collar and tugs him upwards. Honda frowns. Jounouchi is becoming more enraged: his knuckles turn white as he heaves the guy forward, then to the side to smash his lanky body into the wall. “Malik Ishtar and the Ghouls – does that ring a bell?”

“Sounds like a prissy girl group,” the other gangster says, and Honda delivers such a strong punch that it knocks the wind out of him. Deep in his mind, Honda wonders if beating the everloving shit out of these guys will help them get information. How can you talk when your mouth is full of blood and chipped teeth? However, Jounouchi's rage fuels his attacker, and both him and Honda seem intent on forcing the information out. Jounouchi also might have a grudge against these guys being a former Hirutani gangster himself. Or something like that. Honda's not quite sure at this point, so he settles for grabbing the nearest hitman and slugging him one more time.

“I wouldn't be so sure,” Honda threatens. “They're smugglers, thieves, pirates – all that jazz. But I guess some petty looters such as yourselves haven't played with the big boys in a while.”

The hitmen nearest to Jounouchi spits blood on the ground before speaking. “That's a load of bullshit. They're no thieves – they're duelists. Contrabanding trading cards isn't true smuggling. But say that to yourself. Ghouls seem to be amongst the creepiest duelists out there: cheap, illegal dueling.”

Honda turns on the guy. “And that's all you know about them? That they duel illegally?”

The hitman laughs in his face. “I've heard Malik Ishtar can control minds. Those people aren't working for him: he brainwashes them.”

Honda nods. He's seen Malik's “brainwashing” in action. However, these men don't understand the true power. Brainwashing is psychic; mind control is magic. Malik Ishtar is a Millennium Item Bearer who uses dark magic to manipulate people as if they are mindless puppets. Jounouchi can probably retell stories of how it feels to be invaded, to be used, to be controlled.

"Do you know where they are?”

The second hitmen looks up, mouth red. “The Ghouls? I've heard they've dispersed. They've disbanded now that Kaiba's precious tournament is cancelled.”

“And Malik? Where is he?” Honda presses.

“The hell if I know. But I know that his Ghouls must know where he is. Look for one of them.”

Jounouchi shakes the boy so that his head lolls back and forth. Blood dribbles from his cracked lips and stains his punk-rock shirt. “That's not a lot of answers for someone who used to have a big mouth. Where the hell do we start looking?”

In a burst of strength, the gangster pushes Jounouchi way. He stumbles on his feet, swaying from side to side as if drunk. When he manages to regain his footing, he looks up and swallows. “You were in the tournament, weren't you? Didn't you ever see a Ghoul around? Look for them there.”

Honda nods: he never witnessed the duel, yet he heard from Yuugi later about Pandora the Conjurer who dueled Yuugi underneath a circus tent. If they asked Yuugi, he might tell them the secret location. It's worth a shot; it's better than anything they have right now.

“That's enough,” Honda says. Jounouchi's fist stills from a punch to the gangster's jaw. “They've told us enough. Give it up. Let's go.” And Jounouchi follows him, bloodied knuckles and stern expression, out of the café and into the street. Once they are back in the daylight, Jounouchi begins rubbing his bruises and cleaning the blood from his hands with his spit. Honda tries not to watch the display.

“They could've told us more,” Jounouchi reminds him. “We didn't have to stop.”

“You had to stop though,” Honda says. “They'd had enough. Besides, now we know where to go. Pandora the Conjurer – we'll ask Yuugi for directions and head there this afternoon. Something tells me Malik's mindslave will still be lying there like the pile of shit he is. We can even bring Yuugi along; he might remember something from his duel. A hotel name, the name of Malik's favourite bar or game ...”

Honda falls silent as he catches the grave expression on Jounouchi's face. “Hey. Hey, look at me. Snap out of it. We're done with this; we're done with them. Give it up and let it go now.” Jounouchi licks his knuckle and stares at the ground. Honda watches his other hand make a tight fist. “How's your little sister doing?” he asks as an afterthought.

The real Jounouchi seems to come back. He leans in close to Honda and says, “I think she likes being here, even through everything that's going on. I think she's happy again.” The way his face glows makes Honda's heart soar. He remembers hearing Jounouchi talk about how he was separated from his sister. His mother deemed him a troublemaker and never let him see her. Now reunited, Honda is beginning to see the return of Jounouchi's laughter and smile.

“Where's she staying?” he asks. “Not with you …?” He leaves the question hanging so as not to disrespect Jounouchi. Not everyone gets to choose their circumstances. He's doesn't want to say Jounouchi's house is _bad_ , but it's just not a safe place for Shizuka when their father is around. And Jounouchi knows this too. He knows he has it rough. He knows that he'll never have a sleepover at his house, or have his friend pick him up at his door again.

“No, she's at Yuugi's. I wasn't sleeping, actually. When you came over, I mean. I was just packing up some clothes, my toothbrush.”

“Your homework?” Honda teases, now leaning closer to shoot his friend a lecherous expression.

Jounouchi pushes him away. “We're still got a week to go. I can finish it before then.”

Honda laughs. They turn back to the main road towards Yuugi's house. Honda stops, looking intently at his shoes. Both know the way to Yuugi's like the backs of their hands. It's always been a common meet-up location. So when Honda does hold back, Jounouchi turns around and shouts, “Keep moving! I'm hungry again.”

Honda can't hold back from the promise of free food. He follows Jounouchi along, now not worried about stepping back into the group. He never really left; you can't break free from friends who hold you – and who you hold – so close.

* * *

Yuugi is surprised when Honda steps into his house, Jounouchi practically shoving him through the door. Honda seems half-distant as he stands at the genkan, shoes off but still hesitant to step up and into the main room. Yuugi meets his eyes with a warm smile and holds out one ball of onigiri. “Did Jounouchi tell you about the food?”

“Yeah.” He steps up and takes the offered food. “Thanks.”

Anzu comes up beside him, and when she sees Honda, Yuugi can feel the tension increase. “Anzu-chan, you helped Mama make these, right?” Anything to disperse the awkward feeling in the room. The last thing Yuugi wants is to hear his friends fighting.

“Yes,” Anzu says at length. Then she turns to Yuugi, seems to recognize something in him, and smile. “That's right. We've been working hard in the kitchen for you boys, so you better eat up. Honda-kun –“ she turns to the boy still standing in the entryway “– why are you still standing around like a stranger? Come on in. Shizuka-chan is in the kitchen; she'll be happy to see you. And there's juice to drink too.” Her voice dwindles away as she makes for the kitchen,

“Come on, Honda-kun,” Yuugi says.

Yuugi breathes a sigh of relief when Honda drops his rough exterior and steps up to follow Yuugi through the house. In the kitchen, his mother, Anzu, and Shizuka busy around the crowded area with plates and bowls. Shizuka, again, seems in her element among strangers as she pats together round balls of rice. Anzu holds a spoon caked with azuki beans aloft when she spots Honda.

“Take from the plate, not from the bowl. We're saving some for the neighbours.”

Honda puts his hands up in defense and nods.

Yuugi feels his heart slam in his chest, yet he tries to shake off the feeling. His friends are joking. They are all together now. Everyone is safe, and warm, and happy … Well, not everyone because his Other Self is drowning in the bottom of a lake, and Kaiba Seto is stalking Domino City for Malik, and Bakura's missing, and everyone's not sure who to listen to because who'd listen to Yuugi, and no one knows what to do because this has never happened before.

Yuugi grabs an onigiri and takes a small bite. He hasn't eaten much today, so perhaps that's why he's feeling like his soul could slip out of his body and rise up to the stars. He needs to ground himself in something: games, touch, homework, reality. He needs to stop thinking and start doing. He needs to move on.

But he can't.

“Yuugi.” Jounouchi snaps his fingers in front of Yuugi's face to catch his attention. Yuugi blushes; he's daydreaming. “Hey, listen. Honda and I have an idea to find Malik. You know how he had mind-slaves, right? And that you dueled some? I was thinking we could go find one. Apparently Pandora is still in his tent.”

Yuugi tries not to feel his heart tearing in two. “Yeah, he might still be there. Unless Malik is covering his tracks.” Yuugi sighs, hoping it will ease the tension inside him; it doesn't. He throat feels clogged and his eyes feel wet. Is he crying? He hopes not. “Are we going now? And all of us?”

“I'm coming,” Anzu states in a firm tone.

“Me too,” Shizuka says, rice grains stuck to her fingers. Jounouchi and her share a challenging look before Jounouchi acquiesces.

“I guess we'll go then,” Yuugi says. He wonders if he should have more enthusiasm. He wants to find the Puzzle, and he also wants to lie in bed all day and never get up. He desperately wants to find the Other Yuugi; he'd willingly trade his soul to free his Other Self. Yet he also can't bring himself to move on from the binding loneliness he feels.

They leave after eating. In the time since Honda came to visit, it has begun to pour. They huddle under brightly-coloured umbrellas. Shizuka and Anzu wear his mother's raincoats, and Honda and Jounouchi borrow his grandfather's windbreakers. None of the jackets fit properly: the girls' are too small; the boys' too big. Yuugi drowns in his own new jacket because his mother had bought it specifically so he would grow into it. It feels like he's wearing someone else's body.

The walk to RP Hobby Trading Cards brings back painful memories for Yuugi. He remembers standing with Jounouchi as they registered for Kaiba's prestigious tournament. He remembers seeing Jounouchi yell at the owner for only being a level two, and how at that point Jounouchi was ready to leave the tournament. He would later learn that the man searching for their names was a Ghoul, and that he'd set up to attack Jounouchi and immediately disqualify him and take his rare card. Without Battle City, Domino is quiet and boring. There are still crowds of people bustling through the streets, yet everything seemed lucid to Yuugi's action-paced mind. He wants to hear the roar of monsters and the clash of duels in the streets. The sight of holographic monsters appearing in the streets had made his spirits soar, for his true passion was living and breathing before him. Even though the holographic technology has died down with the tournament, Yuugi still wishes he could see his Black Magician materialise once more.

They slip wordlessly through a small door. The room is dark, bare, and nothing like it had appeared during registration. It looks like when Yuugi went to duel Pandora: eerie and mysterious. Yuugi finds the stairwell to the basement and they travel further. There is thickening anxiety pooling over them as they descend, as though many of them are unsure what to expect at the bottom. Yuugi expects everything. He grasps the door handle, emblazoned with the Eye of Wadjet that seems to peer into his soul, and pulls it open.

He sees the body first. There is blood in the middle of the ring that drizzle from the lips of a masked man. Cards are scattered along the floor like dust mites, and Yuugi brushes them aside as he approaches. Tears have appeared in his eyes once again. The sight of Pandora lying faceless in a pile of his own blood reminds Yuugi that Malik never gives up. Yuugi had thought Pandora would be OK after he left: his Other Self had defeated the Conjurer and saved him from the saw blades that were supposed to chop his legs off. Pandora was supposed to survive.

“Is that him?” Anzu whispers.

Yuugi nods. He holds back a sob as he kneels down to the body. A bloody knife rests in the Magician's hands; blood soaks his neck, dripping from a oozing wound.

“It's fresh,” Honda states. His hands are shoved into his pockets and he attempts a casual expression in this vile room. “He hasn't been dead long?”

“You think Malik's been here?” Jounouchi asks.

“He's still here,” Shizuka murmurs, and they look up to see a tall man standing across from them. Yuugi wouldn't say he's scared, yet his eyes are wide and alert. The stranger’s long, violet cloak conceals any weapons he may have on display. Yuugi swallows – is this Malik? He had expected Malik to be younger, crueler, unhinged? The man before him – who is wise, mature, and solemn – watches them with a guarded expression. Even in the dim light Yuugi can see the scars etched across his face.

“Who're you?” Jounouchi challenges.

The man does not respond. His eyes flick to the door behind them; he's trapped.

“Well?” Jounouchi says. “What're you doing down here? Answer us!”

At this moment, the man chooses to escape. He runs forward, attempting to bypass them and slip through the door. Jounouchi catches on; he dives forward and shoves the man back. Honda is next to him, grabbing the man's ponytailed hair and pulling back. Shizuka cries out at watching her brother hit, and all Yuugi can do is grab her hand. Jounouchi never loses sight of himself during a fight – not anymore – yet it is horrible to watch him lay waste to an enemy. Yuugi can only hope the man is OK.

Once Jounouchi and Honda have a hold on the man, they begin to interrogate him: “Who are you? What do you want? Are you in affiliation with Malik? Where is he? What happened here?”

The man says nothing, but Yuugi doesn't think this man could be the leader of an international counterfeit trading card gang, so he assumes this cannot be Malik. The man continues to look to Yuugi for something, only Yuugi shies away. He doesn't know what to do about this man. How is he connected to Battle City?

“We'll bring him to Kaiba-kun,” Yuugi says after a moment. “If he's a Ghoul, Kaiba-kun can search him up. He'll know who he is.”

“I can try and get a hold of him,” Anzu says, and she digs into her backpack for her cell. Once retrieved, she steps outside with Shizuka – out of the bloody, dark room – to make the call.

The man remains in Jounouchi and Honda's tight grips. This stranger has ceased all movement as he hangs limply in their grasp. Yuugi kneels before him, ignoring the blood on the floor, and murmurs, “Do you know Malik? Do you know who broke my Puzzle?”

The man looks up. “Pharaoh,” he murmurs, before his head lolls down. Yuugi jumps, surprised, and grabs the man's shoulder.

“Wake up! What did you call me?”

Jounouchi grabs Yuugi's hands away. “Hey, wait! What're you doing?”

“He called me Pharaoh! He knows of the Other Me and his connection to the Lost Pharaoh.” Yuugi wants to hold tight to the man like he should've held tight to the Puzzle. The mysterious stranger does not fall unconscious, but he remains silent and shellshocked in Honda's strong arms.

“Let's bring him back,” Honda says, pulling the other man to his feet and shoving him to the door. Yuugi lets go of the man's cloak, missing the soft feel of the fabric on his fingers. The Eye of Wadjet stares back at him.

As they head back out the room, Yuugi spots Anzu and Shizuka resting against the wall.

"Kaiba-kun's coming here to pick him up. Let's just wait here.”

"Kaiba's coming?” Jounouchi echoes. “Wouldn't he want to send the police or someone else …? Why the hell does he have to come?”

Honda sighs. “He's probably got some ulterior motive.”

Yuugi swallows. His grandfather had told him that Seto had come by asking for Yuugi to come back to the tournament. Yuugi doesn't know whether to feel proud or disgusted. Does he really mean that much to the CEO? Or does the Other Yuugi matter more? Do his friends want Yuugi – just Yuugi – to be happy again, or do they want the Spirit of the Puzzle back? Yuugi's never felt jealous of his other self before. They have always been a team. Yet now Yuugi wonders how much _he_ matters to his friends.

_I want the Other Me back too_ _,_ thinks Yuugi. His hands come up to clap at the place where the Puzzle should rest against his chest. _Maybe the Puzzle is what grounds me to this world ._

Seto shows up minutes later when they are standing around, wondering how to proceed. Yuugi spots the lethal glare directed at him and his blood runs cold. He's holding a grudge.

“Have you seen the sister?” he questions as a KaibaCorp security guard takes the man to a large, white van parked on the side of the road.

“He's the only one we've seen,” Yuugi says. “Do you think Malik-kun's sister will come too?”

"She'll come looking for her brother … or for you for information to find her brother. Don't expect her to be a lot of help though – she's just as crazy as the rest of the family.”

Yuugi catches the hint. “You've met her?”

“Once,” Seto says stiffly.

“And …?” Jounouchi urges.

“And what, mutt? She didn't say anything but nonsense to me. She's not important, but she's crucial in finding her brother.” Seto clears his throat to compose himself. “I've got a picture of her on the missing person's' report. I expect Malik to look similar. Keep an eye out for them.” He turns to leave, coat tails swishing in the breeze.

“Thank you, Kaiba-kun,” Yuugi says.

“I'm not doing this for you.” _You're doing it for him.  
_

Yuugi cannot hold himself together as Seto heads back to his limousine. His shoes click on the floor and for a second Yuugi can imagine another time Seto walked away from him – only Yuugi doesn't feel the Other Yuugi inside him, horrified by his rival's persistence to place his goals before others. No, there is no more Other Yuugi.


	6. Chapter 6

After they send the stranger off with Seto, Anzu suggests they visit the McDonald’s in search of Bakura. She clings tight to Yuugi as she drags him through the streets; the others follow in tow, still shocked from seeing Seto at the RP Game Shop. Anzu herself hadn’t expected the billionaire to make an appearance. Though he does have an interest in the Other Yuugi – she wouldn't say that Seto _cares_ about him though – it was still downright bizarre to see their classmate out of his office.

As Anzu reflects on this, she remembers that the Other Yuugi has become involved with many people in Domino who are now searching for him. Kaiba Seto isn't the only one after the Puzzle: there is also Yuugi, and Malik, and the Spirit of the Ring, all whom have their own goals and motives. The most important person to her is Yuugi. She can't stand seeing him mope around the game store, appearing empty and weightless. The impact of the loss of the Other Yuugi has reduced her friend to a lifeless shell.

She tries to charm him with some witty humour - “I bet this burger uses processed meat. Ugh, at least Burger World uses 95% pure meat” - but it is all in vain. The only person who laughs is Jounouchi, who nearly chokes after taking a bite. Yuugi looks around, appearing lost and confused.

_I want to help you find the Other Yuugi too,_ thinks Anzu.

She spots a worker who's not helping another guest and approaches her with a warm smile. The girl can't be much older than them, and when she sees Anzu, she appears both happy and apprehensive.

“Hello, I was wondering if anyone worked yesterday in the early morning. I'm wondering if they saw my friend … He's missing, you see, and we have a receipt saying he came here around two o'clock am.” Anzu pulls out the receipt and hands it to the girl. “Would you be able to help in any way?”

The girl takes the receipt and glances at it. “Let me get my supervisor,” she says, before bowing and turning away. A few minutes later, another girl appears, and Anzu retells the story. She tries to share as many details as possible, but in the end, the supervisor can only ask her for a police report before sharing “confidential” information.

Then they are back to square one. They stand on the train platform, watching the mist from yesterday's rain glimmer in the dim sunlight. No one seems to have anything to say; Anzu feels her heart hang heavy. They are running out of options to save the Other Yuugi. Maybe Seto will save him in the end using his limitless connections and money, but there'll be a catch to it: Yuugi will have to duel or something equally ridiculous.

“Do we head home then?” The questions hangs in the air.

“You can come back to my house,” Yuugi says. He forces a smile; Anzu can tell. There is no glimmer in his eyes or emotion on his face. He's wearing a clown's mask to hide how he truly feels, and Anzu wishes she could rip it off. He hasn't broken down in front of her. What would that be like? She's certain he's already cried his eyes out, contemplated his life, and altogether questioned his existence since losing his other self. He appears to be barely holding on.

She is barely holding on too. She'd cried to Shizuka that night. The younger girl had held her in her arms as Anzu sobbed silent tears. Anzu could feel so much emotion that night that she felt that she might tear in two. She wanted it all out though: she couldn't hold it in like Yuugi. Anzu has always had difficulties holding her thoughts in because her mind tells her to get it all out and never look back on it. Expression is freeing. But Yuugi is not free, and she does not feel free from seeing her closest friend close into himself. If even for a moment, Anzu wishes she could save him.

“We should head back to your place,” she tells Yuugi, even after the conversation has once again drifted into an uneasy silence.

It's then that Anzu spots her. She glances to the side to catch sight of a sweeping, gorgeous figure swathed in cream-coloured linens. Her long dress is cinched at her waist and breasts, while the extra fabric cascades down her frame before dusting the floor. The hijab completes the look: it is dotted with gold thread and blue beads that encircle her glowing face. Anzu spots dark eyes cloaked in thick make-up. Her heart skips a beat – this woman is beautiful!

Then Anzu looks closer. She recognizes the sharp features and exotic garb from the missing persons' reports they'd seen not an hour ago in a KC advertisement. “Ishtar-san!” Anzu calls out, throwing her arm up in the air.

The woman spins around, eyes wide, and then runs. Even in her dress, she can run fast, and Anzu in her ballet flats has difficulty keeping up with the woman. However, years of workouts have toned her body to endure long runs. Anzu shoots past Jounouchi and Yuugi and closes the distance between herself and Ishizu. With the woman inches from her, Anzu reaches out and grabs. Her fingers catch on the dainty fabric of Ishizu's dress. Anzu pulls back, throwing both her and Ishizu to the ground in a tangle of neutral fabrics and blue and pink accents. Before Ishizu can crawl away – although by this point the woman is shell shocked and staring at her with a flabbergasted expression – Anzu reaches out with the same arm and grabs the woman's hands.

“It's OK,” she says. “My name is Mazaki Anzu and I am here to help you. I need to ask you some questions -”

“Where is he?” Yuugi catches up to her and crouches in front of Ishizu. “Where is your brother?”

Ishizu looks to Yuugi, eyes wide. “My Pharaoh,” she whispers.

The words have a surprising effect on Yuugi: his body jumps, shakes, and then goes rigid. “I'm not the Pharaoh!” he shouts. “I'm Mutou Yuugi, second year high school student who lives at the Kame Game Shop. The Pharaoh is gone because of your brother – he sent the Pharaoh away! He -” Yuugi stops talking as his breath hitches. Tears stream down his face. “It's not fair!”

_The breakdown was bound to happen,_ thinks Anzu, yet she acts upon kindness by taking him in her arms and holding him tight. She doesn't hear him sob again, yet his body quivers – whether it's from sadness or anger is unknown to her. Anzu doesn't know anything now. She doesn't know what to do anymore than anyone else, and this frightens her. There's no one to guide them now. Anyone would crack under the pressure.

There is a muttered “I'm sorry for your loss,” but it's muted by Jounouchi's loud proclaims of “Let's take her to Kaiba! He can interrogate her too.” He reaches for her jacket, but Ishizu pulls away, standing tall; despite her short stature, she seems imposing before Jounouchi. Her cream linens sparkle and glow in the light. She appears as an ethereal spirit – untouchable. Her hands come up in front of her and she crosses them tight across her chest.

“I don't know you are, but you have no right to touch me -”

“We damn well do!” Jounouchi shouts. “Tell us where Malik is right now or we're taking you to Kaiba.”

Ishizu bristles. “I don't answer to you.”

“Please, Ishtar-san,” Anzu pleads. “We mean no harm. We are looking for something we've lost … something that your brother is also looking for.” She hears Jounouchi scoff at her words, and even Honda seems put-off by her delicate tone. Anzu doesn't want a fight; Ishizu is not their enemy. This woman doesn't even know who they are, and yet the boys seem to think bombarding her with questions is appropriate. Judging by her confused expression, even she doesn't know where Malik is. It does no good, therefore, to verbally attack her.

Ishizu does not appear persuaded. She purses her lips and stares them down.

“Malik-kun took the Other Me,” Yuugi says after a moment.

“The Other You … The Pharaoh?” Ishizu asks.

Yuugi nods. “He broke the Puzzle and we need it back.”

“I don't think he'll be able to help -”

“We don't want him to help,” Jounouchi bristles. “He's caused enough trouble as it is. He can be Kaiba's problem for interrupting the tournament. I have a score to settle with him too.” For emphasis, he cracks his knuckles. Anzu rolls her eyes. Ishizu won't help them if they threaten her. As it is, she appears prepared to run at any sign of attack or danger.

Honda crosses his arms over his chest and scoffs. “We already have one of you – a scar-faced, mute Ghoul. The least you can do is turn yourself in to help with the investigation.”

The woman's eyebrows knit together and she frowns. Then she shrugs. “As you wish.”

* * *

When they next speak again, it is in one of Seto's private meeting rooms. The wood furnishings shine in the warm sunlight that seeps through several floor-to-ceiling windows. The decorations are sparse: a vase rests on a small table to the right of the big door; there are two small dragon statues placed on a shelf on the opposite wall. The table acts as a centrepiece for the room: it spans from one side of the room to the other and is twice as wide as a dueling table. Twenty-four large, oak chairs encircle the table, each one appearing to be designed for a king.

There aren't twenty-four of them in the room though, and this makes Yuugi's heart beat fast as he feels lost in this environment. He could be swallowed up by the space in this room. Everything is too big and unfamiliar for him to think clearly. He settles for taking a seat next to Anzu and Jounouchi, who each take his hand as if holding a toddler through the scary part of a film. He is no longer a child; he doesn't need to be walked through the fears of his life. Yet he lets them because Jounouchi's doing it out of kindness and Anzu appears to need the touch more than him.

Across from them sit the foreigners. Ishizu is expressionless as she sits in her oak throne. Yuugi feels intimidated by her intense stare that always seems to rest on him longer than anyone else. What is she thinking about, he wonders, and he can only imagine she sees him as an enemy. He's going after her little brother to enact revenge. Instead of trying to find the Puzzle and ignoring the conflict, they are seeking out the perpetrator to punish him. No wonder Ishizu doesn't trust them. After all, Jounouchi made it pretty clear they weren't letting Malik get away with his crime.

The other man – Rishid, Seto told them after he hacked into the Ministry of Egypt's databases to search for his legal information – is even more of an enigma. Any time Yuugi sneaks a glance at him from across the table, he is caught frozen in the man's dark eyes. Yuugi can't see anything from there. Seto told him that there was little information about either Ishtar sibling, including schooling and medical records, particularly as children. It seemed these two adults appeared in the databases just several years ago.

“Well, now that we're all here,” Seto begins, “I'd like to hear what you're doing here without passports or visas – or at least, in your case, Miss Ishtar, a fake visa.”

“I am here for business and to support the destiny of the Pharaoh.”

“Bullshit,” Jounouchi mutters under his breath. Yuugi agrees. How does she know about the Spirit of the Puzzle, and what 'business' does she have? Business with the Other Yuugi?

“There is no destiny,” Seto grinds out. “There is only results and reality. Right now, Miss Ishtar, your reality is that you're an illegal tourist whose brother has kidnapped two locals and held them hostage. Your brother has wrecked what I set out to create – what you apparently predicted which _was false._ Do you have have anything to say to that?”

Ishizu lifts her head to stick out her chin. Her sun-kissed skin glimmers in the morning glow as she turns her head towards Seto. “I am here for the Pharaoh and for Malik. However, my little brother's choices are not my own. I do not control him, Seto, unlike you so believe. I cannot predict his actions because no choice is absolute.”

“Why are you here then?” Yuugi asks. He leans forward. “Why are you here if you're not here for Malik? Because you can't be here for the Pharaoh, for the Other Me, when he is drowning in the ocean because of _your brother._ You say that you are here to protect him and to support his destiny. Was that his destiny? Are you supporting him now? What are you doing to get him back?”

Jounouchi, ever faithful, joins in: “Supporting the Other Yuugi means being there when it happened. So where were you?”

Ishizu flinches as if stung. “I am not responsible for my brother's actions,” she sniffs.

Yuugi retaliates. “You are responsible for your own actions. Where were you, Ishtar-san, when the Puzzle broke? What are you to the Other Me?”

“I am a guardian of the Millennium Items,” Ishizu snaps. Yuugi sees anger in her expression, but she soon grows melancholic. “I am ensuring the survival of the Pharaoh until he can go to his final resting place. It's my duty.”

“And what's Malik here for?” Honda grumbles.

“Malik is misled by his emotions. He cannot bear the burden of the Tombkeepers alone.”

“Tombkeeper?” Yuugi echoes. He frowns; his Other Self has never mentioned the Tombkeepers before. However, Ishizu appears to have known of the Spirit of the Puzzle for quite some time.

“The Tombkeepers ensure the Pharaoh's passing into the afterlife -”

“Yeah, yeah, we already heard that part,” Jounouchi interrupts, “but what are you doing here _now?_ And why is someone who is supposed to be protecting the Pharaoh's survival also the one who destroyed him?”

“My brother is misled,” Ishizu repeats.

“Your brother is psychotic,” Seto adds. “Your entire family is delusional if you believe in the Other Yuugi crap that's spewed around this city. I won't hold my disgust against your ideas though; rather, I'd like to know how someone can claim they know this Pharaoh when they haven't even met him.”

“I don't expect you to believe me, Kaiba,” Ishizu explains. “I only wish to honour my family and relieve Malik from his suffering. Then all of us may be at peace.”

They fall into an uneasy silence. Yuugi shuffles in his seat. A part of him wants to call Ishizu out on her nonsense, and explain that Malik's suffering does not permit his behaviour … yet another part of him wants to ask about the reasoning behind his behaviour. What is a Tombkeeper and how are they connected to the Millennium Items? How much do the Ishtars know about the Millennium Items? And most importantly, what is the Ishtars’ connection to his Other Self?

Thankfully, Anzu takes this opportunity to speak up. “Ishtar-san, why is your brother misled? What happened?”

And thus begins the start of the most powerful speech Yuugi has heard. He listens, enraptured, as Ishizu spins a tragic tale of three-thousand years of self-sacrifice. Ishizu explains how the first-born son of the Ishtar line is branded on his tenth birthday and sworn to carry the secrets of the Nameless Pharaoh so that one day he will be set free. She mentions how this relates to the self-sacrifice of the Pharaoh's closest friend, but Yuugi doesn't understand this because his Other Self can't ever remember his best friend. All Yuugi hears are the words, only they don't connect together. He tries to imagine Malik as someone to pity and forgive. He doesn't want to forgive him.

When Ishizu describes the Initiation, he and Anzu shut their eyes to the world. It is too awful to hear. He imagines the feeling of knives on his back, and his memory drags him back to two weeks prior when he felt the heat of the fire crawling on his skin. Did Malik feel as scared as he did on that day? Or was Malik prepared for the Initiation, so when he stepped into the room and lied down on the stone tablet, he was ready for his suffering? Can someone prepare themselves for torture?

“My family suffered, and continues to suffer, because we believe in seeing the Pharaoh to his final resting place.”

“Your family is crazy,” Kaiba mutters. Jounouchi nods his head; Yuugi catches the action and wishes he could agree. He can't stop pitying Malik. He wants to hate the boy, yet his mind is dissociating Malik with his actions and instead blaming society for pressuring this young child to seek revenge on a spirit who he's never met. It's wrong what Malik did, but Yuugi can't hate the boy for wanting to get back at somehow. He'd be calling himself a hypocrite if he didn't.

Yuugi opens his mouth several times, only each word seems to catch in his dry throat. He swallows twice, grimacing. “Ishizu-san,” he whispers, “I … I need to find the Other Me. I understand about your brother, and about yourself, and those things are awful, but …” He turns away, heart clenching. “It's wrong. I'm forgiving and remembering, and that means Malik-kun is still held responsible for what he did. If you help us find the Puzzle and bring the Other Me back, I swear your brother can come home – you'll take him home.”

“They're all going home: they're here _illegally,_ ” Kaiba growls.

“Yuugi looks to Ishizu. Her aloof shell has crumbled now to expose a more delicate personality. She clutches her hands to her chest as if to feel the beating of her heart. Then the woman dips her head. “Very well.”

He lets go of a breath he hadn't meant to hold. Anzu squeezes his hand to remind him she's still here, with him, supporting him, grounding him to this world. Yuugi feels as though he's made a small improvement. While having Ishizu prevents them from enacting any cruel punishment – to which Yuugi is opposed because he really doesn't want to fight anyone anymore – the woman will also be a valuable asset in determining Malik's location.

Which brings him to the other man in the room. Rishid has been silent for the entire meeting. His guarded expression causes a wave of unease over Yuugi, which seems to have extended to the other members of the room as well. No one is willing to meet Rishid's gaze, and even Seto neglects to question him. Yuugi remembers hearing about the man's affiliation with the Ghouls, and he wonders if perhaps this man is closer to Malik than Ishizu. As a Ghoul, he must have inside details on his leader. However, Yuugi isn't quite sure he wants to interrogate the man.

When the room falls silent for the dozenth time, Seto picks up the pace. “Well, now that we're all working _together”_ – he spits out the word as if it is poison – “we should discuss strategies. How are we capturing Malik?”

“He should still be in the city,” Ishizu begins. “After the tournament ended, I thought he might pack up and leave, yet I've talked to him -”

“You've talked to him?” Jounouchi interrupts. He slams his hands down on the table; the sound reverberates around the room like a deep organ. “And this wasn't important info that you could've shared before we all started talking?”

Ishizu glares. “He said he's working with someone, but I wouldn't know who. Malik doesn't typically work with others; he controls others.” She winces. “Rishid, perhaps you might know more. Have you heard from him recently?”

The mysterious man clears his throat before speaking. When he does talk, his voice betrays his young age. He looks wise and sage, as though his Tombkeeper life has done him a favour in terms of knowledge. Had Yuugi not know that it was Rishid himself who scarred his own face in an empathic attempt to ease Malik's suffering, Yuugi would've assumed the man had been in an accident. Perhaps there is more to this man than simply 'the other Ishtar male'. Ishizu had explained that only the first-born, blood-related male could carry the secrets of the Nameless Pharaoh; ergo, Rishid, being an adopted son, has lived his life being the 'other'. How awful it must feel to be something lesser, to no longer be wanted because something greater came into existence.

If Rishid is jealous, or angry, or upset by the circumstances of his life, he does not show them.

“Malik is working with another boy – a boy with a Millennium Item.”

Yuugi crosses his finger behind his back, already dreading the next words. _It can't be._ He knows that the Spirit of the Ring is determined to eradicate the Pharaoh, but Yuugi also knows that the Spirit is possessive: he won't let others take what is his. If Malik and the Spirit are both going after the Pharaoh, it is on separate terms. There are no teams or alliances there; it is simply common goals. Yuugi just hopes that their goals remained the same, or else perhaps the reason Ryou is missing is because of a hitch in the plan.

Jounouchi appears to have similar ideas. He and Yuugi share a look before Jounouchi speaks up: “We have a missing friend with a Millennium Item. He's about my height, white hair, thin, goes by the name Bakura. He's got the Ring. Is that him?”

Rishid shrugs. “I've never seen the boy before. I know, however, that like Mutou and the Nameless Pharaoh, this boy also has two consciences.”

“That would be Bakura-kun all right,” Honda mutters. “Fuck,” he adds.

Yuugi tries to remain optimistic, only he feels his heart and soul falling into the deep, dark chasm again. “What did Malik-kun and Bakura-kun do?”

“Malik-sama never shared much about his contact with your friend. When the tournament was running, both of them were set to enter as duelists to compete in the semifinals. When those plans fell apart, Malik had to find a way to keep your friend's trust. I don't know if they're still working together now.”

“Sir?” Shizuka says from the end of the table. “We haven't seen Bakura-kun in close to 48 hours. He's been missing since the start of the tournament which would be when you said he was working with your brother. Is there any chance that Bakura-kun is still with your brother?”

Yuugi catches Rishid's glance at Shizuka who, like him, has been silent for most of the meeting. However, Yuugi knows the girl well: she is strong and capable and smart. If anyone can put facts together to solve a mystery, it would be this girl. Thankfully, too, for Yuugi's mind is far gone now. He wishes he could just curl up in a ball and block out the world.

“Malik-sama left early this morning for business.”

“Is that what you were doing in the tent too?” Jounouchi snaps. “Business? Malik's covering his tracks because he knows we're on to him?”

“Malik-sama never said where he was going.”

It's Ishizu's turn to speak up, and she does so with the elegance of a swan – and the underlying bite of it too. “Do not presume that my brother's actions are entirely violent.”

“Because every one so far has been done with morality in mind?” Jounouchi returns. Ishizu sniffs. “I don't care what he's done in the past and how that affects who he is now. People are who they are right now, and sure things in the past come back to haunt you, but the important part is what kind of person you are today. Your tragic back-story isn't your alibi. Malik needs to fess up to his crimes before someone takes him out for it. Now,” Jounouchi cracks his knuckles, “what was Malik doing for his 'business'?”

“He was eliminating the Ghouls. The one you saw – Pandora the Conjurer – had been left for the dead by Malik-sama after he disgracefully lost his duel against the Pharaoh. Malik had left him for the dead, but when he returned this morning, the magician was still clinging to life. Malik didn’t want any more Ghouls in Domino, so he killed him. He killed others, too – ones at the pier, in the alleyways, at bars and clubs where they were stationed to watch for duelists with rare cards. There shouldn't be any Ghouls left save for Malik-sama and myself.”

_I don't want anyone else to die,_ thinks Yuugi.

“So are there a bunch of bodies lying around Domino's streets then” Seto demands. “Do I need to send some people out to collect corpses?”

“Malik should have disposed of them already.”

Seto interrogates further: “And then what?”

“He should've returned to the pier.”

“That's where Malik is?” Anzu whispers.

Rishid nods.

“That would explain why he could control … the duel,” she says, glancing awkwardly around the room. Yuugi has been staring at his lap for several minutes, especially since a dense fog has settled over his brain. He's hearing everyone's words, but the emotion has seeped from his body and settled in a pool at his feet. He feels uncomfortable here; he feels detached from his friends. Jounouchi, however, feels everything: he flinches when Anzu mentions the duel, several emotions flitting across his face: disgust, sadness, regret, fear, anger.

“The Rod has no range for its powers, per say,” Ishizu says. “Once Malik is able to enter a mind, he can do it from anywhere. He would've had to be near the person first to take control, but afterwards, he could've been anywhere.”

“However,” Rishid adds, “the boat is at the pier. Malik-sama was living on it until the semi-finals were underway. He might still be on it now.”

Honda stands up quickly, nearly knocking his chair down. “Are we going there then?”

“Settle down,” Jounouchi growls. “We have no idea if he's still there. I bet he has hundreds of Ghouls. If he's on an assassination spree, I doubt he's stopped to take a nap.” He shivers. “We might as well alert authorities – see if they have any hits of mysterious murders.”

“For once, I agree with you,” Seto mumbles. Jounouchi shoots him a withering look. “Ishtars,” Seto begins, steepling his long fingers, “until this investigation is over and Malik is captured, you are under my control. You will remain at KaibaCorp where I have all that you need. Once your brother has been found, I will make arrangements to send you back home. Is this clear?”

Ishizu meets his level gaze. “Yes, Seto.”

“And is there anything else you'd like to add – anyone?” Yuugi doesn't miss the sarcasm dripping from his classmate's tone.

“I do,” Shizuka pipes up. “Ishtar-san, what interests your brother?”

For the first time during the meeting, the power upsets. Ishizu stumbles, gasps, and attempts to control her words. “I'm sorry?” she chokes out, appearing unsure of anything else to say. Yuugi, though still drowning in the darkness, manages to look up. What is Shizuka thinking of?

“I mean, Ishtar-san, does your brother have any hobbies, personality quirks – those sorts of things. Anything we can use to help us find him.”

“He's a control-freak, if that counts for anything,” Jounouchi murmurs, though it is still heard by everyone in the room.

Ishizu seems to understand where she's coming from, but she still struggles to answer. Yuugi wonders how close of a relationship the siblings may have had. Even in the year since solving the Puzzle, Yuugi learned everything he could about the Pharaoh: his interests, his likes and dislikes, his opinions and theories. They shared everything, not only through the mind-link, but through shared time together. Simply by being with each other they learned more about each other than any questionnaire could've done for them. Had the Ishtar siblings not experienced that? Had they been isolated from each other as well as society, leaving them to question who their family even was?

Yuugi can't imagine being a stranger to his own family.

“He likes to duel,” Ishizu says after a moment. “He's competitive. He likes challenges and he likes to play with others. You might say he's manipulative or controlling, but those are traits brought upon him by centuries of tombkeeper traditions that have controlled him. He's deductive; he looks for facts, loopholes, ways to push the odds into his favour. And he's determined. He's in it to win.”

“A tournament would be right up his alley then,” Honda adds. “No wonder he wanted to join Battle City.”

Jounouchi laughs. “Hah, if we just set up another tournament, it'd attract him faster than honey attracts a bee. Just create another tournament, Kaiba, and we'll have him trapped in no time.”

“I don't just 'create tournaments'; it takes weeks of planning. Besides, it's not like the last one was successful. My reputation has … slipped because of certain individuals' carelessness.” His eyes fall to Yuugi, but it is Anzu who leans forward, casting her arm around his shoulder as if to protect him from Seto's arrogant words. Seto recedes with no sympathy for his actions. Yuugi remains impassive; to him, it is his fault.

“How hard is it though?” Jounouchi continues to tease. “You've got followers. Tell them you've got a lil' tourney set up – a weekend thing. Registration at 10 am.; duels at noon. No banned cards. I'm sure people will come – and Malik will be there too.”

Honda seems to have jumped on this bandwagon to. “Even better, you need a bribe. Malik wants a God card, doesn't he? Well, we'll just offer up one of ours. We have two right? And Yuugi, whether or not you duel is irrelevant: people will still come just because you and Kaiba are hosting it. It will be legendary, just like Battle City, only we'll use it to our advantage. Malik, and maybe even Bakura-kun, will enter, and they'll fall right into our trap.”

“That's not going to work,” Seto snaps. “Why would he come after the God cards? The Pharaoh's gone. Isn't that what he wanted? He broke the Puzzle, and now he's severing all ties with those Ghouls. Seems like he's done with Domino City.”

“What about a Millennium Item?” Anzu adds. “Maybe Malik won't care, but Bakura-kun is interested in them, and I think the Spirit is too. Maybe he'll go after it.” She looks to Yuugi. “Only, we don't have one.”

“She does,” Seto grumbles, tipping his head towards Ishizu. “It predicts the future or some bullshit like that.” Then he smiles at her. Yuugi senses the tension rise as Ishizu leans back, her emotions getting the best of her yet again. Perhaps they are all too emotional today, and this conversation is bringing out the worst in everyone. The talk of Items has awoken Yuugi from his cloudy mind, and he glances over at the woman.

“Is he right?” he dares to ask, voice small. He is done; he is gone. He is barely holding onto reality.

Ishizu nods. She carefully reaches under her hijab, rustling the delicate material, and extracts a small, golden necklace. The Eye of Wadjet is the centrepiece to two thick bands which create the band of the necklace; if worn, it would sit high on the collarbone. Yuugi's instincts tell him to reach out for it, feel the gold between his fingers – gold that he's missed, that he's lost – but he holds himself back only to calm Ishizu.

This Item is a part of her too. She doesn't hold it out to him; she doesn't even appear to be present. She gazes into the Item as though it is her child. Her gentle grip, her tearless expression as she looks down. Yuugi understands how she feels and more. He's held the Puzzle and felt for its pulse. He's brushed up against his Other Self's soul and wondered what lurks beneath it. What is he truly feeling when their souls connect?

“She thinks she can predict the future with that,” Seto grumbles with a roll of his eyes.

Jounouchi turns to him, aghast. “You knew she had an Item _the entire fucking time_ and yet you didn't tell us?”

“I didn't see why it was important.”

Jounouchi can't formulate a response, so he growls deep in his throat and turns away. Next to him, Honda bristles with rage. Yuugi feels angry, though any feeling seems to occur outside of him. He's numb to it all regardless of how painful the feeling may be.

With a sigh, Ishizu drops the Item to the table. The fabric of her dress cascades like fresh snow as she moves across the table. “I'd like to see our rooms, Kaiba.”

Seto's smirk is audible. “Right away, Ishizu.” Like her, he exits in a dramatic sea of swishing fabrics that bustle through the door. Rishid is the last to follow. He chances a glance before he leaves, and for the first time, Yuugi catches a real emotion: sadness. He looks to each of them with a hopeless expression before turning a cold shoulder and stumbling down the hallway after Ishizu and Seto. Yuugi watches him go before he looks to his friends. They're all looking back, eager, awaiting the next step.

“Do we stay?” Anzu speaks up after a moment.

“I don't think he's coming back,” Jounouchi answers. “We might as well take the Item and go. We'll figure out the rest of the plans tomorrow, once we've all eaten and slept. Right, Yuugi?”

Yuugi nods, head heavy. He pockets the Item, holding his thumb to the gold and massaging it. There's no imprint or grooves to feel – the metal itself is blemish-free – yet there is something memorable about the feel of the Items. There is no pulse or mind to feel out, yet there is _something_ inside it: magic, perhaps. Whatever it is, it's relaxing Yuugi. His mind feels more at ease than it has been for weeks.

They leave the tower with a sense of purpose yet again. It feels weak, forced, and Yuugi can't help but wonder if it's not going to work out and they're going to fail – but his fingers feel the smoothness of the gold and he remembers what he's looking for. There's still something he can't see, but he can feel it, he can show it. He's still with him – in spirit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to poppy, without whom this chapter would have included far less beautiful ishtars ♥  
> also if you'd like please follow this story on tumblr @ lily-liegh


	7. Chapter 7

Malik paces around the room. There is blood on his hands and it's not his blood. There is blood and it is thick, too thick, so thick, that he gags on dirty air. For a minute, he can't see the body. All he can see is blood. Then he does spot the figure lying a few feet away, arms tucked across his chest even though Malik slashed his neck open with the hidden knife in the Rod. Malik doesn't remember even using this knife, or even knowing of the concealed weapon, yet when he lunged at the man his body seemed to react on its own, pulling out the knife and slashing forward. For that one second, Malik didn't feel like himself. The pain in his head had stopped and all his senses had dulled. He didn't feel anything when the man's blood first splattered.

Then he feels everything. The blood on his skin burns and Malik cries, pulling away. He swipes at his face and feels his fingers slip on his cheeks. They come away red and brown and soiled. Malik vomits.

Everything is bright. It was dark when he left the pier, and darker when he found the mime lying in the boulevard, facedown and motionless: a shell of himself. Now, however, Malik sees stars dancing across his eyes. He gags again, falling to his hands and knees. His back burns. There is blood on his hands and it's not his own. A part of him wants to curl in on himself again, but he can't be seen as vulnerable. He's stronger than this. He is untouchable – a god in his own right. Gods shouldn't be on their knees before the corpses of their peons.

Legs shaking, Malik stands. He tries to ignore the blood that's now staining his cargo pants, and the way his face feels hot and sticky. He stumbles through the boulevard, a shell of himself. His head hurts. Everything hurts. The Rod in his hand hangs limply between his twitching fingers; its blade is still exposed, leaving a faint, scarlet trail down the walkway. Malik doesn't care about the evidence. Let everyone know he killed. Let everyone know that his quest for revenge has only left him unsatisfied. Let everyone know that killing the man who _ruined your life doesn't make your problems go away it only makes them harder to forget because you're trying so hard to remember._

There is blood on his hands and it's not his own.

He walks for miles without looking up. He doesn't have to see anything because there is no one in the world except for him. He is the only one alive tonight, unless he is the only one dead. Perhaps no one is alive. Perhaps he is somewhere else. Whenever he is, Malik hopes that someone nearby will come and take the pain away. He wants fingers on his back that will ease the suffering. A gentle presence will enter his mind and cleanse him of his burden. He'll be free.

Instead, Malik feels someone grab his hand, then his Item, and _pull._ The action awakens Malik and he looks up, startled, unable to hide the vulnerability that is drowning him. Bakura – or is it the Spirit of the Ring; Malik can never tell – looks at him with his own mortified expression before tugging the Rod from Malik's cold fingers and pressing its blade up against his throat.

“What the hell are you still doing here?” It's the Spirit. Malik can't imagine having this conversation with Ryou, which terrifies Malik because he'd much prefer speaking with Ryou, who might enact revenge on him like Mutou or Jounouchi for destroying the Puzzle, but he wouldn't kill him like the Spirit is trying to do right now.

“What's it to you? I'm not interfering with your plans, now am I?” His words seem empty when he can barely hold his thoughts and feelings together. The bloody Rod slides up and down his throat. Malik swallows. Is this how the mime felt when Malik killed him? Or was there no opportunity for feeling before Malik slit its throat? Is this Malik's only opportunity to feel? He hopes not. There is more emotion in this world that Malik wants to explore, yet he is numb to anything except anger and sadness and pain.

They haven't exchanged blows for several seconds. The Spirit holds the Rod tighter, knuckles white as frost, and Malik wonders what blood would look like on the Spirit's hands.

“I told you to leave.”

“You told me to never find you again. It appears you're the one who's found me.”

The Spirit steps forward. He is small, lithe, and Malik feels even smaller next to him. “You have no business left in Domino.”

“How do you know?” Malik presses. “You know nothing about me.”

The Spirit seethes. Malik can feel dark energy begin to crackle around them. It's like being in the Spirit’s soul room all over again, only worse because this is not an empty field inside his soul: this is the real world and it cannot – should not – be manipulated this easily. There are some areas where humans should not – _cannot –_ have control. Does this make the Spirit a god? Malik hopes not, for his life has hung too long in the hands of merciless, self-appointed gods.

“I can do whatever I please,” Malik challenges. He holds his head high, meeting the Spirit's gaze. His stomach drops when he catches the Spirit watching him back.

“Ah, I see. You think you are untouchable. My bad.” The Spirit lets the Rod slip back. He twirls it between his fingers, grinning. The change in personality surprises Malik: he is even more wary. “So who did you kill? I'm assuming that blood isn't your own.”

“Someone who got in my way,” Malik replies. “It's none of your business who I interrogate. I'm sure you've done the same.”

“But it appears you killed too soon. You don't look like someone who's got all the answers.”

Malik notes that, even though the Spirit is communicating with him in a manner most civilized, the atmosphere has grown darker and colder. The shadows bites and snaps at him; Malik feels himself shaking. His shoves his hands in his pockets to hide them and bites his lip to remind himself that he is still living and feeling. Can the Spirit still sense his uneasiness? Malik is beginning to lose his senses himself.

He needs to get out of here.

“I don't care what you think,” Malik says. “I'm looking for someone and I'm busy.” He pushes past, but a hand grabs his jacket collar before he can take another step. Then he is pulled back into himself, shoved back into reality, and he lands back first into the concrete. He coughs, gasping as arms grapple at his neck. Everything hurts. All he sees is darkness.

“An enemy of an enemy is also my enemy,” a voice whispers in his ear. Then something pushes into him. Malik cries out, first in shock and then in pain. He feels the heat spread upwards until his entire body is burning. He can't see anything. He feels the Spirit's hands on his body, and he feels something sharp slide up his stomach to his neck. Then it rests, steady, like a predator waiting for its prey.

“Please, stop,” Malik gasps. He is vulnerable. There is blood on his hands and maybe it's his own.

Then there is no blood, no darkness, no nothing. Malik feels pain, no pain, everything, nothing, and he closes his eyes to it all. His body tells him to sleep; Malik feels like he's waking up from a dream.

* * *

The Spirit shivers, body shaking, as he releases his hold on Malik. The boy has gone limp. Blood loss probably won't kill him – that would take hours – but asphyxiation is shorter. He is dying from lack of life – life that's he seems to have been searching for. How cruel; how ironic.

_You need to dispose of the body,_ Ryou mutters. _You can't just leave your evidence lying around for the police to stumble upon. Kaiba-kun's looking for Malik and his siblings. We don't want him finding a body._

_And where do you propose we hide his body? They're looking for you too._

Ryou scoffs, though the sound chokes him and he muffles a cough behind his hand. They’ve become ill. The Spirit won't admit it, but everything in them seems to ache. The world is seen through hazy eyes and with a burning fever. However, neither of them are willing to give in to any illness, so they, for sheer disregard, pretend the symptoms don't exist and that they will go away. At least neither of them are bothered by the disgusting side-effects. They've dealt with worse.

When the Spirit makes no move, Ryou pushes against his soul. _I'll take the body somewhere._

_Tell me._

_Let me._

The Spirit gives in by throwing Ryou in control, shoving him into the pilot seat so every sensation bombards him like an army of _life_. Ryou tenses up in the cold, arms bracing him against the ledge. He coughs again, this time bringing up fluid, and he hangs over the ledge as he vomits.

_Weak stomach,_ the Spirit jokes.

_Not true,_ Ryou snaps. _Your fault for getting us sick. Your choice for jumping into the ocean at night._

When he is able to breathe again without coughing, he picks up Malik’s body – or rather tries to, for his arms give in seconds after holding him and he drops the bleeding boy to the ground. _Shit._

_Language,_ his Other Self teases.

Ryou rolls his eyes. _He's heavier than I thought._

_You thought you could lift someone practically the same size as you? Heh._

Ryou tries again, only this time his arms are too shaky to even lift upwards, and he falls to his knees gasping for breath. The urge to cough returns, but Ryou holds back. He doesn't want to give in. He doesn't want to appear weak before his Other Self.

He kneels down again, wrapping his arms underneath Malik's body. He feels raised scars, but they don't frighten him. He's got a few of his own to match Malik's. The blood doesn't bother him either: it refracts the moonlight and slips along his pale wrists. Once Ryou feels secure in holding Malik, he braces himself and rises, using his legs to push him upright. His arms shake; he bites his lip and presses on. Once he is upright and stable, he takes a tentative step forward. He feels his body give in before he pulls back the reins, tightens his hold on his own spirit, and takes another step.

_You're doing good._

_Don't mock me,_ Ryou bites back.

The Spirit laughs. _Feel flattered, dear landlord –_

_Don't break my concentration._

The Spirit falls silent. _Fine._ Moments later, he is speaking: _Where is this secret hiding place?_

Ryou sees no point in keeping secrets, especially from someone who has attempted to break down his soul room door searching for them. The Spirit is ruthless at times. _The pier. There are lots of storage units where rich salarymen store their boats. We can sneak into one of those and hide the body there. I bet there's someone's boat we can even break into and sleep on – no one will notice._

He doesn't ask for the Spirit's opinion because he doesn't need it. It's him who's dragging the body down Domino's normally-busy boardwalk. If the Spirit does have any objections, he'll voice them. He always does. Their relationship is built on the transparency of outer emotions. Despite the Spirit attempting to break into his soul room, he's never succeeded and Ryou's never given him much reason to. He's got a dozen or so skeletons hiding in his closet – mostly of Amane and Mother's deaths, but there are other awful times in his life too – that the Spirit's never found. And that's OK with Ryou because he knows the Spirit has some skeletons in his closet too. He's been in his Other Self's soul room: it's dark and mysterious, as if the Spirit himself has either forgotten everything or attempted to erase it. But there are times that Ryou catches glimpses of sorrow when he holds the Millennium Items, or sparks of anger when he sees the Other Yuugi that Ryou is certain stem from emotions based deeper than a petty grudge. They hold their secrets away from each other – but everything else, well, it's up for grabs.

When they make it to the pier, Ryou peeks inside each building for a hiding spot. Most of them sport attractive boats, but Ryou worries that they will be seen if they are too close to the road.

_How about the ones near the pier? We'll be able to see if Yuugi comes back for his Puzzle._

Ryou agrees. Malik's body has become dead weight in his hands. When they spot a secluded boat dock, complete with a tacky, purple watercraft, Ryou drops the body in his hands and begins to drag it forward. He shakes and shivers, holding back coughs and sneezes. His vision has been spinning for hours from his fever. Malik's body is placed in the far corner of the warehouse, tucked between several wooden crates.

_He'll be safe there,_ Ryou says with a sigh. He stumbles towards the boat, barely registering when his feet travel upwards towards a large wooden door. He falls forward and something – or someone – catches him. He falls onto his soul room's bed, burying his feverish cheeks into the cool blankets. Everything hurts.

_Go to bed, dear landlord,_ he hears. Ryou doesn't bother to argue. Whatever happens now is the Spirit's fault. He's done his duty.

* * *

When he awakes several hours later – or perhaps it has been several minutes – Ryou feels his body … moving? He pushes his soul to the forefront. His body is moving down a quiet street, illuminated by the yellow street lights and luminescence of the moon. It's still the early hours of the morning; it hasn't been long since Ryou slept.

Besides the placid atmosphere, Ryou catches sight of Malik's body in his arms. The Spirit's face is pinched in concentration and agony as he drags the corpse down the sidewalk. There is no blood trail for the police to follow, but Ryou still feels himself shiver at the sight of the bloody skin, glazed eyes, lifeless expression. The Spirit offers him a bit of control, and Ryou feels the raised scars again.

_Mm … Where are we going?_ Ryou asks sleepily.

The Spirit does not respond for a second. His foot catches on a raised slab in the ground and he stumbles. One arm is thrown out to catch a lamppost which serves to pull him back up to stand. Ryou feels the sickness creep into his system; the Spirit shivers, trying to compose himself. He is white as snow, cheeks red as fire, and eyes black as the night. Slashes of dark purple appear as bruises underneath his eyes from lack of sleep. Even if Ryou sleeps, or the Spirit sleeps, the body never rests.

Ryou prods his other self. _Hey. Are you listening?_

The Spirit shakes himself. He begins to take small steps across the pavement, hoisting Malik's body above his shoulder. As the Spirit's arms quiver, Ryou injects his own strength into the body. The energy supports the Spirit, but he receives a wave of disgust. The Spirit is unhappy with him. Let him be that way. Ryou ignores the beating of his heart and the gasp of his breath as he wrestles control. Instinctively, the Spirit pushes his away, though the gesture is weak. He's weak.

_I said: where are we going? You're ignoring me._

_We're leaving,_ the Spirit mutters. He chokes on the words, and heaves forward. Bile slips between his lips, dripping down his face and to the ground. He remains in the same position for minutes afterwards, gasping for breath. Malik's body is cradled against the Spirit's chest, making it near impossible for his Other Self to stand. Ryou feels his energy sapping away as the Spirit attempts to compose himself. This illness is doing awful things to their body.

_We were fine where we were. We aren't fit to travel._

_That was Ishtar's ship that we were sleeping in. I saw it – saw his plans and documents for his business. Everyone's out looking for him and … and I'm sure you don't want to get caught._ The Spirit makes a face and spits on the ground. _You wouldn't want to be a suspect, now would you?_

Ryou huffs in reply. _You still haven't answered me. Where are we going?_

_Is that going to be your mantra all night?_

_Give me control._ Ryou shoves himself in control, precisely at the same time as the Spirit sways. The feeling of free-falling returns, and Ryou has only half a second to catch himself. Sensations begin to bombard him: his arms groan in protest to Malik's weight; his entire body aches and shivers. Sometimes he forgets what it's like to feel everything when he and the Spirit can share the body, but it appears the Spirit is punishing him for taking control – Ryou feels everything and it _hurts._

_Where are we going?_ the Spirit teases.

Were his strength not failing him, Ryou would've grabbed his soul and plucked him right back in the body. If he loses control, his other self will surely pick up the spare pieces. However, Ryou is scared of losing control for good. His vision dims at the corners, courtesy of a pounding headache, and even standing proves to be a feat of strength. Instead, he carefully walks himself forward, dragging his feet along the pavement. One hand clings to the wall should his legs give out.

_A hotel,_ Ryou says after a moment. _It's warm, secure, and they serve breakfast._

_You're thinking about food_ now? The Spirit laughs.

_I'm thinking about survival. We're part of the game now: We've killed the person everyone is looking for. They won't find the body, but there will be suspicions about why_ both _of us are gone. Yuugi's probably looking for me now; if he finds me with a body, they'll suspect you, and then we're screwed once the Pharaoh takes control._ He pauses to stop walking and readjust the body. No matter how he carries Malik, the body weighs him down. _Now, what we need to do is stage the murder -_

The Spirit interrupts: _He has lackeys. One of them can kill him._

_They're dead._

The Spirit pauses. _How do you know?_

Ryou's grin is audible. _How do you think he got the bloodstains before we killed him? Obviously he's been on a killing spree before we got to him, and I doubt he's killed anyone important, or else we'd be seeing cop cars. I don't think he's killed everyone, but it seems he was trying to cover his tracks … much like you and I are trying to do. Erase your homicidal footprint and all that._ He chuckles, though the sound turns into a heaving cough.

_You're hilarious,_ his Other Self drawls. _Eyes on the road – someone's there._

In the dead of the night appears a lonely silhouette, dressed to the nines in a crisp, navy blue business suit. The stranger holds his briefcase close to his chest, as if somehow this weapon will protect him from the monsters roaming the streets. Ryou surveys the situation: he, one teenager, is carrying one blood-stained teenager. There's a possibility that this salaryman is drunk – and indeed, given the time of morning, it is plausible he is returning from a night of drinking to catch a few hours of sleep before returning to work in the morning – yet this man could also be tired. If so, would the man see Malik's bloody body and call the cops?

As the man approaches, Ryou swings Malik's body to carry him bridal-style. He hugs Malik to his chest to hide the bloodstains, and prays that those on Malik's cargo pants will appear as a fashion design. Within his mind, he can hear the Spirit roaring with laughter at seeing Ryou carrying the body in such a tender way. Ryou's response is to bow his head down, appearing as though he is cradling Malik. His lips brush the jutting curve of Malik's cheek.

“Good evening, sir,” Ryou says as he passes.

“Hm … yeah. Cute couple,” he slurs, and he continues on. The Spirit is on the floor _giggling,_ a sound that previously Ryou had thought impossible for his Other Self to make. He cups his hands as he coughs, but still he laughs outright. Ryou feels his face heat up; he is sure he is the colour of blood.

_It's not really that funny,_ he mutters.

_You play the part too well,_ is all his Other Self can manage in between his fit.

For the rest of the trip, Ryou ignores him. The road winds itself in between and around tall buildings, never intersecting with another road. Ryou hopes he's going the right way; his vision is rather blurry right now. Thankfully, the road is well-lit: Ryou can see the fine details along the fences, the hand-painted murals that decorate the fences bordering the walkway, and the cutesy shop signs with curly hiragana. Malik's face glows in the artificial lighting with a sickly yellow tinge. His eyes are still half-open, and when his head lolls against Ryou's shoulder, Ryou can spot a flicker of purple. It almost appears as if Malik is alive, watching him with kaleidoscopic eyes.

When they do make it to a vacant hotel, Ryou carries Malik's body up the concrete stairs like a drunken couple about to enjoy their first night together. Making it up the steps with the body includes dragging Malik's feet, tugging his arms, and rolling him over the final step, all while choking for breath. A light patter of raindrops dusts their bodies before they can find shelter under the roof. From there, Ryou drags the body down a hallway towards a room at the far end. He peers around in search of other occupied rooms; after all, they wouldn't want any surprise guests popping in to check on them.

At the door, the Spirit forces himself in control so he can use his magic lock-picking skills. Ryou rolls his eyes, even though he is grateful for the favour. It's not really his forte. When the Spirit does try to push him back in control, however, Ryou resists, clinging to the door of his soul room with a defiant glare. _Make me,_ he challenges. _Your turn to carry the body._

The Spirit gives one final, indignant tug before lifting Malik's body by one arm and dragging it through the door. The room is barely bigger than the double-size bed in the centre; thus, the small desk and bedside table are squished against the wall, oak furnishings blending in with the overall earthy aesthetic. To the side is a small bathroom – again, only big enough for a shower, sink, and toilet – and it is here that the Spirit of the Ring drags the body, depositing it under the sink and between the other two appliances.

_If someone comes in, you're dealing with it,_ Ryou says.

_Gladly._ The Spirit smirks, already scheming Dark Games. The effect is altogether ruined when he begins coughing again, and he vomits once again over the sink. _You need to fix the body if we're going to ever do something. I can barely see now._

_You're the one who got it sick. We'll go to hospital tomorrow for medicine. Sit tight for now_. Ryou yawns from his soul room and buries himself in a soft comforter. The edges of his vision are blurry from sleep deprivation as well; it would be nice to simply fall asleep, block out the world and pretend that nothing has happened. No one has died. No one will die. Yuugi is safe, and he is safe, and Malik is safe, and Battle City is all done. The coldness of the air brushes against his exposed skin; he shivers from the intense feeling.

_Spirit?_

_What?_

_Nothing. Just making sure you're still there._

And Ryou falls asleep to the feeling of something – or maybe it's someone – pressing against him. It's not touching per se, but a sense of togetherness fills Ryou's mind. He feels safe and warm for the first time in days. It's a wonderful feeling, even if it's all in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to poppy, who was kind enough to help me figure out the best way to kill malik ^^


	8. Chapter 8

Somehow, Seto creates a tournament overnight. Yuugi can't imagine the hours he put into making this plan a reality, but he is eternally thankful for Seto's dedication – and perhaps obsession – with recovering the Puzzle and ending Malik's tyrannous behaviour. The tournament itself, called Magic Nation, will be hosted the following weekend at KaibaCorp, in a private hall complete with dueling arenas. Duel disks will be necessary for all contestants as well as registration fees, decks, and one rare card. It's eerily similar to Battle City in a way that makes Yuugi's skin crawl. Will it end the same?

“I bet Kaiba'll have the same strict registration rules as last time,” Jonouchi grumbles from the kitchen counter. He holds a slice of pepperoni pizza in his hand and attempts to take a large bite of the gooey cheese dripping down the sides of the piece. With his mouth still full, he adds, “Only the best duelists can enter his pretentious tourneys.”

Honda pushes his friend's arm and rolls his eyes. “He doesn't want any second-rate duelists in the competition. Sounds fair to me.”

“It's subjective,” Jonouchi argues. “How can you determine a duelist's potential? You can't. If a duelist is only challenging the easiest of opponents, his record'll be higher than a pro who’s competed with national champions. That's not fair, now is it? Everyone should still have the opportunity to join as long as they're an honest duelist.” Appearing to be satisfied with his answer, Jonouchi returns to eating his pizza in large bites.

Yuugi settles down on a kitchen chair and holds his head in his cupped hands. He hadn't slept much the previous night even with the puzzle box and Torque in his hands. The feel of the gold is a false comfort – it's temporary and familiar, but it is not the Puzzle, and Yuugi feels even lonelier when he holds the other Item. The tournament has caused a tense buzz around the game shop all morning: Jonouchi and Honda have debated the logistics over breakfast and brunch; Anzu has joined in at times to mention the chances of catching Malik or a Rare Hunter in the tournament. Shizuka's knowledge is absent – she returned to the hospital early in the morning for a follow-up appointment at the hospital.

Absently, Yuugi draws with his finger on the wood table. The others seem to have given up on asking him for the game plan because he never seems to have one anyways, and for this Yuugi is thankful. He doesn't know what's going on anymore. Now that Malik is loose, Bakura is missing, and Battle City is cancelled, plans and goals seem to be up in the air. The chance of recovering the Spirit of the Puzzle's memories are gone along with the Item. Seto had called them late at night to say the Coast Guard would be looking for the Puzzle as well as Malik's whereabouts; Rishid, the eldest brother, had supplied Seto with information about the Rare Hunters and their base of operation. So far none of the information has travelled to the Mutou household, yet Yuugi waits with anticipation … or, as must emotion as he can muster.

“Otogi? What the hell are you doing here?”

Yuugi looks up to spot his classmate entering through the door, trying to get both himself and a large suitcase through the doorway. Once inside, Otogi gives the group a classic, dreamy smile and runs his hands through his dark hair.

“Hey,” he says back. “I figured you'd all be hiding out here. What's up?” He slips off his black dress shoes and tucks them by the door. His bomber jacket and scarf come off next, until he is standing in a thin shirt and tight jeans. He looks to Yuugi. “How're you doing?”

“I'm good, Otogi-kun. What brings you here?”

“What's in the suitcase?” Jonouchi adds. “Something for us?”

Teasingly, Otogi pushes the luggage away. “Nosy, nosy,” he taunts. “It's not for you – it's for Yuugi here.”

Yuugi can only raise an eyebrow in confusion. He and Otogi have had conversations before, and there some mutual friendship blossoming, but with all that has happened in the span of four days, Yuugi has forgotten about the people in his life not directly connected with the missing Puzzle. It's not that Otogi isn't important to him; it's that Otogi isn't relevant to what's happening right now, and honestly Yuugi doubts he could care about why Otogi is here or what he he’s brought with him. Distantly, the briefcase reminds Yuugi of Seto Kaiba, and there's a flicker of apprehension at seeing what might be inside.

Before Yuugi can begin to ask – and to fill the awkward silence that has crept in the room – Otogi lifts the leather briefcase onto the counter and begins unhooking the four latches that clamp it shut. Once open, he reaches inside and procures several packets of documents, all bound with big alligator clips, and certainly hefty reads. Yuugi can't imagine what they are. Otogi _is_ a businessman, but not in the paper-pushing kind of way. Otogi is a businessman of words, of wit and tongue and fire, and seeing the stacks of documents makes Yuugi think that perhaps these papers aren't even his own.

“I heard you're looking for someone,” Otogi begins. He winks.

Yuugi waits.

Otogi sighs. “Look, if you're trying to find Malik Ishtar, you've got to realise that this punk's got connections everywhere. I'm sure Kaiba already knows this and has chosen not to share with you, but I'm gonna tell you: the Ghouls are everywhere. Yes, they're elite duelists playing with illegal cards, and Malik's a megalomaniac trading card smuggler, and their entire operation is trading card laundering, but there's more to it than that. Malik may be just a kid, but the Ghouls aren't, and their professions span into any and every corner of Domino. Law enforcement? Got it. Hospitals? Already covered. If Malik wanted to find someone, all he'd need to do is get a lackey to check a database. He's got infinite knowledge at his fingertips, ready to knock someone down a few pegs.”

Yuugi nods. He's figured part of this out already – the Malik has connections part at least. It makes sense too. If Malik wanted control, he'd need a way to get it from someone, and since Domino City expands over a fair portion of Tokyo, he'd need a large (and cohesive) following to have such control. Which means people with power, money, and control follow him. The obvious suspects are those dignified individuals with shady pasts – lawyers, doctors, police officers – but Yuugi also wonders if there's spies in lower positions, maybe as grunts and lackeys to these professionals, who can communicate with Malik. Either way, Otogi's information isn't new, but it shines light on the murky thoughts in Yuugi's head.

“And?” Jonouchi says around his third slice of pizza.

“That means that the best way to get to Malik is through his lackeys. They're in all professions, right? You'd think they'd be hard to spot, but Malik has a habit of picking Ghouls with undignified backgrounds. He picks criminals, shady individuals that won't turn away from his plans. It's not hard to pick apart someone's bank account to find they’re spending half their paycheck on alcohol, or to find out that they've lost their wife a few months back. Sob stories make it out in the world faster than anything else.”

“Malik's not working with the Ghouls,” Jonouchi growls.

“Well no,” Otogi deadpans. He drops the papers on the counter with an ominous _thud!_ _,_ and now Yuugi's really curious what the paperwork is all about. He opens his mouth to ask, but Otogi continues on: “Malik's not working with anyone but himself. His lackeys are working under his control. But what I'm getting at is that Malik has a lot of information about everyone. He probably knows where we are. He probably knows where his siblings are. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if he's infiltrated Kaiba Corp –”   

“You haven't told Kaiba-kun about this?” Yuugi interrupts.   

“I'm getting to it,” Otogi snaps, not in ire but in childishness, like he's frustrated his dramatic build-up was interrupted by Yuugi's question. “See, Yuugi, Malik hasn't come after any of us. Doesn't that confuse you?”

It does. Yuugi has to admit that if he had information about the Puzzle pieces, or about the Pharaoh, or about anything related to what has happened, he'd be on that person like a bee to honey. He'd hunt them down – literally go after them no matter where they are – and demand they spill what they know. He'd do it. Right now he is at wit's end and all that matters is bring the Puzzle back – intact.

But Malik hasn't. Malik hasn't come after any of them. Ever since the pier duel, Malik hasn't spoken to any of his friends and hasn't threatened anyone's life (of which Yuugi is aware). It's been peaceful in Domino ever since that day, and once Otogi draws attention to the silence of crimes, Yuugi becomes aware that perhaps something is dreadfully wrong. If Malik had wanted to get revenge on the Pharaoh for the cruel fates of the Tombkeepers, then shouldn't there be something catastrophic happening?

“You see?” Otogi says, becoming more animated in his voice and behaviours. His hands shoot out to grasp the corner of his papers and he smacks the documents with an open palm. “This is a list of every known Ghoul in Domino, meticulously compiled by me –”

“How'd you get special documents?” Jonouchi interrupts.

“I have connections too,” Otogi dismisses. “Anyway, this is it - the collective works, crimes, and lives of every known Ghoul. Half of them are dead.”

“So I heard,” Jonouchi mutters. Yuugi doesn't miss Otogi's surprised expression. They're one step ahead of him.

Jonouchi ploughs on: “How do you know they're Ghouls though?”

“I already said –”

“You can run a background check on _me_ and some bad shit will pop up, but everyone's got skeletons in their closets and you can't tag them as a criminal for it.” He stands up and wipes the leftover tomato sauce from the corners of his lips. “I get that you did some checks and the information all lines up, but what I'm saying is that you're making assumptions. You're _assuming_ that these duelists have shady back-stories and that makes them Ghouls. You're _assuming_ they are working with Malik, for Malik – what if they aren't? You must've seen the duel – the duel on the pier where I was Malik's lackey – and I was _controlled_ by him. Don't you think maybe some of these Ghouls might be under Malik's control?”

When those words come out, Yuugi's blood runs cold. He doesn’t want to think about how the Ghouls are like Jonouchi because they aren't. They can't be. Yuugi doesn't want to feel sorry for the Ghouls like he feels sorry for Jonouchi, for his best friend, being in such a dire situation. Yuugi wants to be able to hate the Ghouls because of how they hurt Jonouchi and the Pharaoh and Anzu and everyone close to him. Those criminals don't deserve his pity.

“You're forgiving criminals?” Otogi barks out a laugh. “Honestly, Jonouchi, I would've thought –”

“You would've thought what? That I'd be angry? I'm angry all right. I'm angry they couldn't fight back. I'm angry that _I_ couldn't fight back –”

_You did though. You love me and you saved me._ But Yuugi can't bring himself to say the words.

“But I'm mad at Malik. I hate that son of a bitch more than anyone else right now. He's dead to me.” Jonouchi shoves his hands in his pockets, attempting to appear casual, but Yuugi can see the emotion burning in his brown eyes. He's looking for a fight and he's prepared.

Otogi shrugs his shoulders. He has no pockets in those skin-tight jeans of his, but he makes a good display of appearing like he too isn't bothered by the tension in the room. “Take it or leave it. I just wanted to drop off some facts in case Kaiba never reports back to you. I've worked with him before – not directly, but with his company – and if he finds something, I doubt he'll look for a second opinion before he intervenes. If he finds Malik first, he's not going to you with support. I'd suggest getting Malik first.”

“We're looking for much more than Malik,” Yuugi says. He turns to Jonouchi who meets his gaze with a stern but comforting look. “I want my Puzzle back.”

“And Malik has it?”

“Bakura has it,” Yuugi says. “I think. Either that or it's still down there.”

“Whatever then.” Otogi pushes the papers a bit more towards Yuugi, casually flicking the evidence it seems he's taken quite the time to procure, only for Yuugi to give it little more than a sidelong glance. It's nice. It shows that Otogi cares, but Yuugi doesn't want this. He doesn't want any of this, but he especially doesn't want some fan-theory about the Ghouls. Because to Yuugi – and to Jonouchi – it's not about the Ghouls: it's about the Puzzle.

Otogi leaves minutes later with a lighter briefcase. Yuugi watches him go from the entrance to the kitchen, arms crossed and legs crossed and tongue tied tighter than a pair of tangled headphones. There's little more he can say to Otogi besides “Thank you,” because neither he nor Otogi are expecting a massive hunt down of the Ghouls. When Otogi leaves, Yuugi doesn't even manage to say goodbye; he watches from the doorway, impassive externally, dying internally, with Jonouchi staring their classmate down.

As soon as the door closes, Jonouchi spin on his heels. “That dick,” he snaps. “Who does he think he is, barging in like he's got all the answers? Sure he's got some paperwork, but he's got everything all wrong. I – we – you – we don't care about this. Right?” Yuugi nods. “Right. Unless he's got classified information about where Malik might be, then this really is pointless.”

Yuugi nods.

Looking up from the paperwork, Jonouchi catches his eye. “This is good for something though – not everyone's dead. This has some live suspects too, and while I won't admit that this is evidence – it's a theory – it's a start. Maybe Malik will go after someone next. Maybe we'll catch Malik.”

“That's like saying that someone else will die, Jonouchi-kun. I don't want anyone else to die.”

“That's what this here is for,” Jonouchi says, tapping the papers with a flat palm and rustling the hundreds of pages. “I don't want to say that we need this because I don't want Otogi thinking he's helping us and all that, but this here means that we can find someone. We can find someone, and then we can find Malik, and then we'll find Bakura, and then we'll find the Puzzle. It's all connected, see?” Jonouchi grabs his shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze. “We're gonna be OK.”

In the morning light, Jonouchi is the sun Yuugi sees. There's still a bit of pizza sauce on his lips and his hair has bed-head even though he's hardly slept. His hand slides down Yuugi's arms to catch at his hands, and then his fingers entwine themselves in Yuugi's like desperate vines looking for their companion. Maybe Jonouchi's blushing and maybe Yuugi can feel his face heat up too. Maybe this is the start of something and maybe Yuugi's thinking this is it too. This is the beginning.

“Hang in there,” Jonouchi tells him. “We'll find the Puzzle. It's still here, can still be seen. You're not losing hope yet.”

Yuugi sniffs. “That's right,” he says.

In the morning light, Jonouchi is all Yuugi sees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to poppy, without whom there would have been many, many spelling errors in this chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

Ryou wakes up first. It takes a moment for him to come to, but when he does it's with mounting panic. He can't breathe. He manages to take in one deep breath before he can cough it out, curling in on himself. His chest heaves but no matter how much or how long he coughs nothing seems to feel better, and by the end of the fit the only thing Ryou can confirm is that he's ill and that he needs medicine now. He can't go to the doctor's – not with his current track record and the fact that _there is a fucking body lying under his bathroom sink_ – but if he found somewhere else to hide Malik's corpse, he could make a quick trip back to the hospital. He and Bakura know where the antibiotics are, and they can probably get something to eat there too.

With a groan, the Spirit awakens too. Ryou can feel him creep to the forefront of his mind, blearily trying to understand what is going on. The Spirit can be quick to rouse – perhaps from his past life when he would need to respond to immediate dangers – but in his present life, he wakes up with the grace and style of a broke college student who regrets taking morning classes.

_We're going to the doctor's today,_ Ryou says. _Are you alive for that?_

_Always,_ the Spirit says, but his voice is hushed, weak, and altogether pitiful. Ryou still knows that, if they fall into trouble, the Spirit will have the strength to intervene; however, it would be best if they saved the bloodshed for another night. The body's hands are still caked in blood, their clothing is ruined, and the last time Ryou remembers showering is when they returned home from the pier. That was about three days ago, give or take whatever time that happened and whatever time it is now.

_It's the evening,_ the Spirit mutters. He stretches up his arms and yawns loudly. _Get moving, landlord. I'd like to be at the hospital before midnight._

_By all means, take charge_ _,_ Ryou sniffs. The haughtiness is altogether ruined when he flinches from a sneeze, catching it on his sleeve. _You are welcome to deal with what you've caused._

The Spirit doesn't say anything. Ryou lets himself be plucked from his body like a puppet with its strings cut, and when he blinks again, he's looking across his soul room at his oak door. His own spirit barely registers in this environment because his other self has kept him attached to his mind, holding his conscience so close to reality that Ryou can feel when the Spirit's shaky legs touch down on the threadbare carpet and pad across the room. Ryou can feel the body groan as they head to the bathroom.

He catches sight of his gaunt appearance in the mirror – dark eyes smeared with purpling bruises underneath, rosy cheeks scarlet, skin pulled taut around his bone-weary skeleton. His other self can still manipulate his appearance, so the prized hair horns are present. The rest of the body hangs from weak strings; they just look damn tired now. The Spirit runs his fingers through his hair and glances down at the other skeletal body, this one lying in a pathetic puddle under the sink. Ryou feels sorry for Malik. He looks like someone who had the push but not the shove; when the going got hard, he got lost between the chaos of what he caused and what others took on. He couldn't play with the big boys.

_What are we doing with him?_ Ryou asks.

The Spirit toes the body. _Leave him here._

_I really don't think room service wants to find a body, especially since we're not supposed to be here. They're going to rent this room out to someone, and some careless tourist is going to happen upon a coincidental murder scene. That won't bode well. If someone finds Malik's body, they'll report it, and then Kaiba-kun will see it, and they'll be a city-wide investigation. We want the others to keep thinking that Malik is alive so they don't come looking for_ us. Ryou pauses to catch his breath. _What I'm saying is this: if the body is staying here, we need to make sure no one else comes up here._

The response is an eye roll. _I wouldn't let the body be seen. I don't want to be negotiating with the police anymore than you. I'll go rent the room for one night._

_In bloodstains?_ Ryou quips.

The Spirit shrugs. He turns on his heel and makes his way out the door, down the same rickety stairs they ascended earlier that day, only this time the body is visibly shivering despite the weather being sticky and hot. His other half seems to have a hard time not falling flat on his face; Ryou suspects the only force keeping them upright is the Spirit's blatant stubbornness. They do, however, make it to the air-conditioned lobby, decorated in the same earthy tones as the room, and hosting a long, narrow desk behind which sit the attendants and maids. Ryou shivers as their eyes fall on him and his ragged clothing.

The facade begins: the Spirit hunches his shoulders, appearing meek. “Um … hi,” he begins, catching an attendant on the far left's eyes. This particular attendant can't be much older than twenty, and judging by his anxious posture, Ryou suspects he can't have worked here long. Excellent. The Spirit will have an easier time coaxing him to give them the room and fresh clothing.

“Hi,” the Spirit starts again, wringing his dirty hands in agitation. “I'm so sorry to be a bother, but do you have clothes? Something happened, and ...” He looks away, abashed. The fever makes his cheeks glow and he holds himself just to keep from tipping over. His body language is on-point though: the poor room attendant blushes crimson and looks away too.

“I can get you some new clothes from the onsen. Please wait just a moment.” He dips his head and turns away, back towards a room behind the counter that Ryou suspects is where they keep the spare linens. The attendant returns not moments later with a royal blue kimono, nothing spectacular, but they take it with open arms. The attendant then tries to give him another one, this one a deep purple, but Ryou turns it down, and his other self muses that they might look like someone else waltzing down the streets in purple robes.

The Spirit then asks if he can order a room for his friend. He picks one two doors down from the room they'd previously stayed at, and when questioned by Ryou, his other states, _I don't want them thinking they need to clean the room first, and if they insist, I don't want them dropping in to find a body. We'll move the body to the next room._

They get the room without fuss. The Spirit of the Ring pockets the room key and trudges back up the stairs, this time to collect Malik's corpse and drag it down the hallway to their new room. It's the same as the old one sans the bloodstains, but Malik's decomposing body in their arms is far heavier than before, and besides the scars along Malik's back, Ryou can see the splotchy, bruised colours of livor mortis. The overall sight is ghastly when paired with the blood, the torture, the overwhelming anxiety in the room. Ryou isn't frightened by death, but murder is another topic altogether. He can handle seeing dead people, holding dead people, but when the dead are from his own doing – when the death came from his own hands – Ryou can't shake his uneasiness.

Once the body is safely deposited under the new room's sink and the 'Do Not Disturb' sign is hung on the door handle, Ryou leaves. He can feel the Spirit's weariness creep under the door and into his soul room, so Ryou steps in to assist – not take control, but take the Spirit's hands and guide the body together. Only it's not like they're holding hands; they're holding each other at arm's length, calculating glances aimed at each of their pallid faces. Ryou can't imagine ever working _with_ the Spirit – and Malik's untimely death is a clear indication of why such a concept is a Bad Idea – but he can imagine working alongside the Spirit, from a distance far greater than arms length, and working towards a goal neither of them want but both of them need.

The walk to the hospital is dashed red and gold, purple sky eclipsed behind the thick clouds that expand over the sky. There's the slightest of breeze that makes Ryou wish they were wearing more than a thin kimono, yet he supposes the long sleeves offer him more protection than his t-shirt. Ryou half-expects someone to catch him on the streets, but he supposes if they're looking for anyone, it would be Malik. That's probably why his other self found the purple kimono amusing. At least Ryou can feel that he's safe on the streets now. Malik's not looking him; Yuugi's not looking for him yet.

Before the sun sets, Ryou makes it to the hospital. The looming structure glares down at him as if critiquing him for returning so soon after his impromptu departure. The lights to most of the room are still on to cast a pale glow around the building, and as Ryou steps through the double-doors of the emergency ward, he flinches from the heavy, artificial lighting. It's busy in A+E – there's at least twenty battered, bruised, and ill-looking people occupying the plastic waiting rooms chairs along the right wall, and the three triage check-in stations are full of more patients and nurses. It is then Ryou spots another line of chairs, mostly full, of people _waiting_ to check-in.

_Wonderful,_ he mutters. _We'll be here all night._

_Make a scene then,_ the Spirit says.

_We're in a_ hospital – _everyone here needs medical attention. I doubt anything I do will catch their eye._

_Let me then._ And before Ryou can argue, he feels himself be pulled from the driver's seat and tossed back into his soul room. Ryou's first instinct is to charge back into situation and fight the Spirit, but it's then that Ryou notices something peculiar – no one's in control. The body has been left without a conscience, without a force.

The corpse crumbles to the floor, lifeless.

In an instant there are nurses sprinting across the room to lift him up, roll him to his side, check his airways and begin to monitor his heart. Ryou's never thought to leave the body without either of them controlling it, so it feels odd when the sensations of the nurses poking and prodding him are dulled to minute pinches along his skin. They don't move him, which Ryou finds frustrating – he's semi-conscious on the dirty hospital floor, why can't they take him to the room – but then the Spirit presses forward.

Their heart stops.

Ryou gasps even when he can't breathe, and his mind becomes even dizzier than it was before. How does the Spirit even know how to do this? How can he stop their life from flowing?

The nurses respond with defibrillator pads that are pressed across his chest, one at the top and one at the bottom, and the shock their body receives jolts both Ryou and the Spirit into consciousness. Their souls slam into one another, neither of them able to wrestle control but both being present. Ryou's hands grapple at the Spirit's and hold tight; they've never been closer than they are now, and the next shock sends them colliding with an even greater force. Ryou can feel the cold seeping into his blood from being near the Spirit and it makes him lean closer to bridge the gap. Distantly, he wonders if this is what Yuugi and the Pharaoh feel like when the connect. Do they stay close to each other, enveloped in the other's presence? Ryou's never been close to his other self, yet he supposes this could be for the best.

Another shock pulses through the body and his other self’s conscience shoots forward. They gasp. The Spirit comes round breathing heavily, eyes alert and wide. Ryou can feel the other self’s happiness that the plan is working, but right now Ryou can hardly believe that they went into cardiac arrest, that the Spirit could stop the body's life whenever he wanted to. He watches as his darkness responds to the questions of the nurses, who begin to notice how feverish he is. The Spirit plays the part well: he explains that he's been feeling ill for several days, that the symptoms have become worse, and that this is the first time he's passed out, all the while holding back painful coughs that attempt to rock his body as hard as the defibrillator had.

In the end, the nurses take him to a wing to run tests on his heart. They can't trust that he won't pass out and fall into cardiac arrest again, and Ryou can't argue with them; if the Spirit has the power to turn off all living functions of the body, he'd want medical staff monitoring his vitals too. They walk him on his shaky legs down several hallways to a small, emergency room temporarily used for heart scans. There are tubes and monitors strapped everywhere across the room, though Ryou suspects most of this equipment is beyond what he needs. The nurses stick small pads across his chest, which are then hooked up to a larger monitor that keeps note of his vitals.

The entire process, from falling unconscious to being wheeled into the emergency department, takes less than five minutes.

_It worked_ _,_ the Spirit murmurs, surprised by his own plan.

_Of course it worked –_ _heart-related injury is taken seriously in hospitals. That's the reason we're in here. The nurses are now worried we have something funny with our heart, so they're going to monitor us until they know we're safe._

_Then it worked._

Ryou sighs. _We're bedridden and hooked up to a cardiac monitor. We're not going anywhere unless we get this machine off us, and that can't happen because the moment these sensors leave our skin, the hospital staff will be alerted that we've lost consciousness and they'll come to investigate. We need to think of a way to get these off of us._

_Tell them you need to take a piss._

Ryou rolls his eyes. _You're in control of the body; you do it._

The feeling of someone grabbing him and dragging him into control shocks Ryou even before his senses are overloaded with the sounds of the monitors, the itch of the sensor's pads, and the awful headache courtesy of the cold. He has half a second to process all these feelings before he hacks up the bile in his stomach over the side of the bed, ignoring how his throat burns and his eyes water. Spirit cackles from his soul room. Let him. Ryou is in control right now – fully in control, not like when he has to assist the Spirit in keeping the body alive – and nothing wavers him.

When a nurse passes by not seconds later, Ryou speaks up. “Um, excuse me. Yes, sorry – sorry to interrupt you. I was just wondering … how … How does one go to the bathroom hooked up to this machine?” He says it all in a timid voice, head bowed, eyes shadowed by his stringy hair slicked from the sweat on his brow. His voice has become hoarse with all the coughing and it hurts to speak. The nurse, however, seems to take all these signs without a shred of compassion; he's busy and has work to do

“You can walk around with them on. Just don't take them off.”

Well that is enough for Ryou. He stands on his shaky, brittle legs and hobbles off the bed. His chest burns from even the smallest of exertion, but he stands resolute and heads down the hallway. There are so many signs and doors in every area of the triage wing that it makes him dizzy. Where is he supposed to go? There appears to be no order to where people are going, so he can't follow anyone down the long hallways. There are rooms to peek into, yet he can't sneak around with the portable cardiac monitor wheeling around after him like a trained dog. Asking someone seems to be out of the question because doctors, nurses, technicians, and patients all seem too busy to help him with anything.

_Lost?_ the Spirit mocks.

_Hardly. I've been here before. I'm just looking for where we need to go._

_Twelfth floor,_ the Spirit says. _We've been up there before._

_Yes, but not with a cardiac monitor strapped to our body. It's a bit hard to move around when you're dragging a wheeling medical coathanger behind you._ Ryou flinches again as he sneezes, nearly stumbling into a wall. _Look, we just need to find a way to get upstairs that won't seem suspicious. I'd say we find a way to ditch the monitor first, but I don't know how to disable this without alerting the nurses._

Ryou spots an elevator at the end of the hallway, one that looks as if it could be used by the general populace. No one comes to stop him as he slips inside and closes the door. The chrome interior reminds Ryou of a holding cell; claustrophobia – something Ryou has never been afraid of – lingers at the corners of his mind. The monitor picks up his rising heartbeat and even though it doesn't beep, it makes Ryou shiver.

_Could you manipulate the heart monitor if the sensors were off us?_ Ryou asks.

_I can't do anything to that ridiculous scrap of technology,_ his other half growls. _All I can do is alter the body – change the rise and fall of vitals, so long as it's not conflicting with anything like your ridiculous illness. I'm no wizard; I can't touch the Ring to something technological and expect the instrument to bend to my will._

Ryou sniffs. _I'd have thought so._

No one stops him on the way up. The ride is long and makes Ryou's head spin even more than before. The twelfth floor isn't the highest, but when Ryou gets off and stands in the hallway, he feels like he's in the clouds. He's landed in a hallway that branches out in two directions, but from there it appears to extend even further, and Ryou isn't quite sure where to look from here. He remembers being on this floor days ago, yet that was for bandages, not medicine, and Ryou expects that they should be in different, perhaps locked, areas. That will be difficult.

Not to mention that he's not supposed to be here. Not to mention that if anyone finds him up here they're going to wonder what he's doing without an identification bracelet. He's not a patient of the hospital yet. They must have something of his on file – they've taken his wallet it appears; he can't feel it in his back pocket – but they haven't signed him in yet. They'll recognise him right away though, since he escaped from the hospital two days ago, so Ryou sneaks off to the left.

There's a door in the middle of the hallway with a clear sign across it: “Medicine Storage”. Ryou has to laugh at how easy it would be, and it's then that he remembers seeing another door on the main floor that also read “Medicine Storage”. They travelled up to the twelfth floor for nothing. They braved all the dangers, snuck into a ward, and all the needed to do was slip into the A+E storage room down the hallways.

Ryou sighs. He sets his hand on the handle of the door and gives it a gentle wiggle. It doesn't budge. There's a keyhole for a lock and a nine-digit pin pad above it. Both seem like minor security for a place that stores dangerous drugs, but then again Ryou remembers reading in the newspaper that of all the people in a hospital to come in contact with the drugs, it was the nurses who were most likely to overdose. Thus, none of the patients are expected to sneak into the storage room.

Of course, there are always troublemakers. Ryou slips his hand into his pocket, feeling out where his other half has tucked the key he snitched from a nurse on their journey up to the trauma ward. It's small and should have been attached to a lanyard with many more keys.

_How did you get this?_ Ryou asks.

_Don't ask questions you don't want answers to,_ his darker half mutters.

_I wasn't even conscious and you still managed to snitch it from under everyone's noses. I'm curious – tell me._

_The entire lanyard was in someone's pocket. One slip of my fingers and I had every key to the building. The rest of the keys are lying somewhere in A+E, not that they'll think to look there unless someone happens across them._

Ryou inserts the key in the hole, twists it, and turns the knob. The door swings open to reveal a well-lit, small storage space. The room can't be much bigger than Ryou's bedroom, and despite the thick walls and sterile appearance, Ryou finds the room to be quite inviting. He'd expected some dark, dungeon-esque cavern, not the little utility room with metal shelves and off-white cupboards. To makes things clearer, everything is marked. There are maps and charts taped to the walls of the rooms, and each cupboard sports a dozen name tags made by someone who no doubt was an organiser. When Ryou spots the locks on the cupboards, he swallows hard, but the key in his hand appears to open these locks too.

_We're looking for the controlled drugs_ _,_ Ryou says. _I don't think we need anything stronger than that._ He turns to the charts where it displays where all twelve cupboards are displayed; the controlled drugs cupboard is the largest. It is also the only one to use a keyhole locking system, whereas the others are fitted with an electronic pinpad. The key slips easily into the locks as well, and with a turn Ryou unlocks the cabinet. Inside, he finds dozens of bottles, all neatly arranged with their labels facing outwards. The surgical ward is rumoured to have the most drugs because of their generous use, and Ryou would reckon it's true as he searches high and low for what he needs.

The Spirit brushes his conscience against Ryou's. _We're looking for penicillin,_ he says.

_We're looking for amoxicillin_ _,_ Ryou corrects. _Used to treat viral pneumonia. Amane had it when she was young and I remember being in the hospital – not this hospital but one in Osaka – when they doctors gave her the medicine._

_And you remember the drug they gave her?_

_I remember the reaction it gave her and the extended hospital visit it left her with._ Ryou's hands slip as he hunches forward to cough. He makes it to the small sink before he hacks up up blood, shoulders shaking. He should be quieter, but his body hurts and his throat burns from the illness. e,By the end of the fit, the Spirit is holding his soul in place to keep them from passing out. He rinses his mouth out and wipes the blood and mucus that's dripping from his lips. When he looks back in the cabinet again, the medicine is right before him – a small pill bottle with a safety cap, and inside are a dozen or so pills. Ryou tips his head back and swallows two of them dry, then hides the bottle in his long sleeves.

_Grab another one_ _,_ the Spirit urges.

_I'll be fine with one dose. We're not even paying for this._

Ryou feels the Spirit's conscience slam into his, long enough for this other self to wrestle enough control to shoot out his hand and grab a second bottle. _I_ said, he hisses, _grab two bottles so we don't have to make this trip again._

Ryou doesn't bother to fight it; he gives up control with a sardonic smirk and returns to his soul room. _As you wish._

The Spirit topples over from the control as the illness hits him full-force. His head smacks the cupboard door and his hands grapple for anything to hold onto, but in the end he ends up on the floor, wheezing, trying hard not to vomit again. It takes him minutes before his shaky legs can hold up his weight, and when he makes his way out of the room, his hands hold a death-grip on the cupboards and shelves that act as his handrails. Outside of the room, there are a few more people milling around the surgical ward. Ryou in his kimono stands out of place amongst the bundle of nurses in scrubs and patients in no-size-fits-anyone hospital gowns. There isn't much else to look at though: the Spirit concentrates on standing upright and walking forward, a feat in itself considering his vision has blurred and darkened at the same time.

Distantly, they both hear someone call something, and it sounds like “Bakura”, but Ryou brushes it away. He's hallucinating. He's revisiting memories of being in the hospital, of seeing live bodies and dead bodies on stretchers, of hearing the beep of the monitors and the whir of the life support. There's been a faint buzz in the back of his mind ever since he stepped through the doors, but now it's clearer and harsher and Ryou's ears ring with the vibrations of the voices calling his name, his sister's name, his mother's name.

“Bakura-kun? Are you OK?”

Ryou's heart stops as he feels a hand touch his shoulder. He's been found.

“Bakura-kun, right? You … you know my Big Bro, right?”

Ryou doesn't recognise the voice unless he's heard it on a TV somewhere, but he can narrow down the number of 'big bro's he's friends with to assume this is Jonouchi's little sister. His little sister who came down for surgery is probably recovering right now, who probably saw the pier duel because Jonouchi had told him she wanted to see him duel in the tournament

_Let me talk to her,_ Ryou demands. _I don't want you near her._

His other bristles at the sudden aggressiveness, but he slips away to let Ryou take control. The switch makes Ryou shiver, but he attempts to straighten himself up and face the girl. He's seen Shizuka once, on a video recording Jonouchi shared with them before they headed off to Duelist Kingdom, yet the camera hid most of her charm. She's dressed in cream capris and a lilac top, perhaps the only other patient besides himself who isn't garbed for the extended hospital stay. Like Jonouchi, she radiates confidence and enthusiasm. She reminds him of Amane in the ways that she twirls her long hair around her fingers, shifts from toe to toe to avoid getting cold feet. When she speaks, there's politeness, but there's determination, and Ryou knows he wouldn't want to get on her bad side.

“Shizuka-chan,” he greets. His voice comes out as a soft whisper, and he swallows roughly to try and clear his throat without infecting her. She must be able to tell he's sick: his eyes are watering, his cheeks burning with fever, and his movements sway from exhaustion. “How are you?” he manages to ask.

She answers with, “I'm doing well,” while she plays with a piece of paper in her hands – a prescription. “What are you doing here?”

_She knows,_ the Spirit hisses in his ears.

Ryou flinches. _She knows what?_

_She knows you've escaped. Listen to her – that's either a dumb or a leading question, and she doesn't strike me as someone who's dumb. She wants to know where you've been, why we escaped the hospital in the first place. Don't tell her._

_I'm not going to tell her. Relax._ Ryou shuffles side to side. “I came to visit a friend, one from elementary school who's been transferred here for surgery. I haven't seen her in forever, so it's not on the best of circumstances to have a reunion, but I'm happy to see her nonetheless.” Smile; don't choke.

“That's great,” Shizuka says, and despite her beaming smile, Ryou doesn't buy her kindness for a second. She's testing him. If she knows that he's supposed to be in the hospital, than she must have known he'd escaped, which means it's odd for him to have to return so soon. Ryou doubts she knows much more about Battle City, but she knows about him, and she's seen him, which is enough to want to leave. She can't know that he's here because then she'll blab to her brother, who will blab to Yuugi, and soon they'll have a search and rescue team out looking for him _and_ Malik. Shizuka doesn't seem like the type of girl to want to get him in trouble, yet Ryou suspects she'd cart him off to a medical team or to Yuugi and Co. in a heartbeat. Neither of those options sound appealing.

An uneasy silence creeps between them. Ryou tries to swallow another cough, but it catches in his throat and he takes an uneasy breath to dispel it. Shizuka watches him with her kind yet calculating eyes, and when Ryou is certain he won't vomit in front of her, he tells her, “I'm on my way home. Are you leaving too?”

_What are you onto, landlord?_ his darker half murmurs.

“Yes, I'm done with my check-up. Big Bro told you about my surgery, right? Anyway, it's all going well and I'm on the road to a full recovery. My eyesight's coming back daily - I'm seeing more shapes and colours than I ever could before.” She pulls out a pair of chic sunglasses to cover her eyes. “Still need to wear these when I'm outdoors until my eyes are adjusted to the light, but that's a small price to pay for regaining my vision.”

Ryou tries to smile at her words as they make their way to the elevator, then down to the first floor. His stomach does uneasy flips while his arms brace him against the wall. His vision spins from the fast descent, though closing his eyes makes it worse. Once the doors open, he stumbles out and tries to inconspicuously make it out the doors. Ryou feels like someone is looking for him as he heads outside.

Outside, Shizuka shifts from foot to foot in front of him. Her sunglasses make her face larger and rounder, and even though he can't see her eyes, he can tell she's watching him. “Are you sure you're feeling OK? Big Bro said you were in the hospital.”

“Was,” Ryou states. _She knows._ “I'm feeling much better – just a few more days of antibiotics.”

Shizuka doesn't seem convinced by his words. “Well, I'm heading back to Yuugi-kun's. Want to come? I'm sure everyone will want to see you – they've been looking for you, I think. Hm?”

“I'm sorry. I might take a couple days off to recover. I hope you don't mind ...”

Her hand is in his before he can jump back. “I'm sorry, Bakura-kun, but everyone's looking for you. You've been missing.” Her fingers catch on the lid of the pill bottle, and she shakes his sleeve back to examine the small, orange container hidden in his palm. There's no tag on the bottle, which Ryou is certain she's noticed, and before he can offer an explanation to why he's holding stolen drugs and sneaking around Domino City, Shizuka says, “Bakura-kun, what happened?”

_We're going,_ his darker half interjects. Ryou's soul is yanked from control and tossed back in his room; he hits the wall with a dull, albeit painless, thud. Even in his weakened state, Ryou jumps back up, panic shooting through his brain.

_What's happening? What are you doing?_ he snaps.

His darker half says nothing. Ryou throws himself against his soul room's door, but the Spirit has every barrier set up around them. Ryou is stuck. For the first time in months, Ryou is stuck in his mind. He can't see or feel anything that isn't outside the sterile, looming walls of his room. If the Spirit is doing anything, Ryou won't be able to know of it unless he breaks down his other's defences.

Ryou hits the door with all his might. _Let me out, Spirit! We're working together and that means you can't shut me out._ He aims a strong, swift kick at the door, but the barriers don't budge. _This isn't fair! Let me out right now!_

The silence is audible. The Spirit isn't even listening to Ryou; he's in control, with Shizuka, without Ryou. That combination terrifies Ryou. The only trust he can offer to the Spirit is that he'll keep the body alive, but that says nothing to anyone else's life or safety. For all he knows, he could've hurt Shizuka.

He could've hurt Shizuka. Ryou kicks the door harder.

_You let me out right now or I'll take control. I'll do it. You know which one of us is stronger._

No response.

Ryou places his hands on the door and pushes. The illness makes his head spin and nausea roll in his belly, but he holds tight and presses harder. The oak door gives way, warping slightly to accommodate for the mental pressure Ryou is inflicting upon it. When the wood is too weak to give any more, Ryou's hands slip inside the material, then his arms; when his body melds into the door, his mind because a fuzzy miasma of wispy ideas and memories. The wood gives an audible creak as he makes it through the door, but all at once Ryou hits the next barrier. It feels like ice water soaking his body and he shivers through it.

_Let me out, Spirit, or I'll break through._

Ryou feels the Spirit's conscience at the corner of his mind; with all his strength, he slams into it. It's unbearably hot; there is fire inside him. With both of them weak, Ryou pushes into the Spirit's mind and falls into his memories. It's hot and sticky in the Spirit's soul room; wildfires rage through desert sands and creeps up the side of a glowing mountain. The outcrops in the rock are licked by the hungry flames. Everything is burning.

The Spirit's conscience slams back, feral and exposed. If the Spirit's barriers are still up, they are weak, for Ryou snaps through each defence as if he's breaking eggshells, and when he wrestles for control, the light of his soul floods into the Spirits and creates a shattering of bright fireworks in the darkness. When their souls collide, Ryou's engulfs his other's, chases the shadows back into the recesses of the Spirit's mind. The room is on fire with gold for the moment before Ryou takes back control of his body.

He stumbles forward with Shizuka in his arms, landing roughly at the doorway to his hotel room. Shizuka is unconscious yet unharmed, though Ryou still frets about how her soul must be inside her body. Ever since Ryou has lost control of his memory, he's learned to take account of his surroundings first before responding.

_Her soul is fine,_ the Spirit says.

That is hardly an apology. Ryou whips around, eyes ablaze. _What did you_ do?

The Spirit shrugs.

_Don't you ever take control of me like that again,_ Ryou warns. _I am stronger than you and both us know that._

_Hmph._ He feels the other head back into the soul room. Ryou doesn't mind the dramatic slam of the door. Childish.

Now free, Ryou gives himself a moment to collect his bearings and catch his breath. His throat burns with the illness and he turns away to gag into his shaking hands. The Spirit must've travelled fast once he knocked Shizuka out, but how he's managed to get her unconscious is a mystery to Ryou too; true to the Spirit's words, the girl still has her soul.

Carefully, Ryou stands and braces himself against the wall. His cold fingers fumble in his pockets for the key, and with an arduous swipe he opens the door. Shizuka's body is dragged into the room, eerily reminiscent of when Malik joined their entourage, though Ryou takes Shizuka to the bed and lies her in the cream-coloured blankets. She appears unharmed save for a slight nick on her jaw from when she must've tumbled to the ground with him. No matter – Jonouchi won't slaughter him for trying to protect his little sister.

Jonouchi's little sister. The waters of this manhunt seem murkier now that Shizuka is with him. It means that once Jonouchi and others learn about her disappearance, they'll be a city-wide scan for her. Missing persons reports will appear on every television screen and newspaper. Ryou has no worries about being a potential suspect – they're still suspect Malik despite his death – but he worries about how thorough the search and rescue will be. Will they come to the hotel? Will they tie his disappearance with hers? Then there's the anxiety of what happens when Shizuka wakes up. She knows him, recognises him as a friend of her brother's, but after the _stupid_ stunt the Spirit pulled, Ryou doubts she'll be relaxed around him. After all, she'll assume that that was him and his shifting personalities, not that there is a separate person possessing him. No, Jonouchi definitely wouldn't have told his sister about the Ring Spirit.

_She'll think I'm crazy_ _,_ Ryou confirms. _Wonderful._

And she does. When Shizuka wakes up a hectic, arms wheeling and fists ready position, eyes burning into his, Ryou can understand that yes, Kawai Shizuka believes he is crazy. Yes, Kawai Shizuka has been kidnapped by one Bakura Ryou – regardless of who was in control for that particular kidnapping – and yes, her life may as well be in imminent danger. She wakes up with the grace of her brother, throwing herself forward off the bed to stand square before him.

“Where am I?” she demands.

“A hotel,” Ryou answers, shrugging one shoulder. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed to ease the dizziness in his head. Shizuka remains standing; her hands are down, guns lowered, but Ryou wouldn't put it past her to break down the door and save herself from this situation. She's not as vocal as her brother, but she's equally passionate, and Ryou finds the quiet passion – the wise glances, strong presence, and soulful words – to be equally persuasive in getting him to stop what he's doing. Only Ryou's not stopping, at least not while he needs to keep himself under the radar to avoid detection. If she were to escape, she'd no doubt relay his location to Yuugi and Co., and that entire situation would get messy. Plus Shizuka would let slip that it was his other self who kidnapped her (his friends wouldn't think he would actually kidnap Jonouchi's sister) and that would add to the drama.

Shizuka doesn't pace when she is anxious. Ryou isn't sure she even is anxious, if her calm demeanor and casual-yet-assertive presence are anything to go off of. She crosses her arms over her chest and looks around the room. She can't see Malik's corpse from where she stands, as the bathroom is behind her and the door is closed, but there's still something off-putting about the room. Perhaps it's because there is nothing in the room – no clothes, suitcases, personal necessities scattered around the room like a mess that would never be made in one's own home.

Ryou tries to make light of the situation: “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she mutters. “Why am I here?”

“Well,” Ryou begins, “there's a criminal out on the loose and we need to stay safe. You're Jonouchi-kun's little sister, right? Malik will be looking for you.” The lie isn't foolproof, but Ryou does wonder how much Shizuka knows of the situation? Does she know who Malik is and why he pitted Yuugi and her brother against each other in a battle-to-the-death on the pier? Does she know about the Other Yuugi whose soul was lost when the Puzzle broke and fell into the ocean? How much does Shizuka know about him, about Kaiba, about this whole mess of a tournament that is now a manhunt for Malik? Shizuka was meant to come down with Honda in time to watch Jonouchi in the semifinals, but how much have they filled her in on the drama since then?

“I don't think he's looking for me.” She knows well enough, it appears. “He's looking for Yuugi-kun, right?”

Malik's not looking for anyone. Malik is a crumpled-up corpse underneath the sink of Ryou's hotel room – a shell of his former, self-appointed glory. The Malik Ishtar they are thinking of is no more.

“I'm not sure what Malik's doing,” Ryou admits with a nervous laugh, and he ends up doubled over in painful, phlegmy coughs that rack his ribs and make him want to vomit. His illness shocks Shizuka for a moment and she takes two tentative steps towards him. Ryou bats away her concern with a wave of his hand and stifles his coughing with a choke and a gasp. With a raw throat, he jokes, “I haven't been filled in on the whole story.”

“Oh,” is all she has to say. “Why are you here then?”

_She's interrogating me too_ _,_ Ryou realises. Ryou also hears the hidden meaning behind her words – why aren't you at home? Which means she knows he hasn't been at home for several days. Which means she's been to his house recently, probably the morning after he went fishing for the Puzzle. Shit. He's gotta tell her something.

“Malik's looking for me.”

No shocked expression. “Why?” she demands. She crosses her arms and stares him down. She may be 13, young, and naive, but Ryou can see that just like her brother, she wouldn't take anyone's shit. She's looking for facts and expecting them to come from him. When Ryou had watched the video of Shizuku a half-year ago, he'd imagined a sunshine-and-rainbows girl, maybe a bit of manic-pixie syndrome when someone in particular caught her interest, but overall a demure, polite child. No, Shizuka is every bit the little spitfire her brother is. Perhaps it is because of her mannerisms and personality that Ryou sees his sister in her. It's either that or the fever.

“I don't know. Maybe he's looking for the other duelists. I just – he came to my house one night, demanding I tell him why the tournament was cancelled, and – I just don't know what he wanted from me.” He sighs. “I thought if I left my home for a few days, maybe he'd stop searching for me. I haven't seen him since.”

She chews on her lip while contemplating the answer. It's not the best lie Ryou can come up with, yet with her question answered she can't say much else to it. In the end, she shrugs her shoulder. “So why am I here then? Malik-kun's not looking for me. He's looking for you.”

“Malik-kun has a, um, _habit_ of going of those close to his enemies. I don't mean to frighten you, but if he's trying to get at Jonouchi or Yuugi, he'll go for friends and family first. Your safety is so important, and I thought he would come to the hospital, and …” His voice peters off into a hushed whisper. There isn't much more to say. Shizuka's expression has softened to a worried frown; she seems to be buying into the careful lies he's set out for her.

She settles down on the bed next to him and gives a heavy sigh. “Will Malik-kun come after us here?”

“I don't think he knows we're here. This should be a safe house until things get sorted out.”

“I should be able to call my family though,” Shizuka tells him.

_Shit._

The Spirit catches her soul before either Shizuka or Ryou can stop him. The girl keels forward, unconscious, and her forehead collides with an echoing _thud!_ on the threadbare carpet. Ryou stifles a gasp before rounding on the Spirit.

_What was that for?_

His other self says nothing. His image appears in the corner of Ryou's eyesight, a flickering ghost of a human transposed over reality. He looks more like Ryou when he's not sleeping with dark magic, but when he spots Ryou, his smile is unchained mania. It is in these instances that Ryou can see the darkness within his other self. The Spirit looks unhinged in the way his hair shoots out from his scalp and his eyes light with fire. The Spirit grasps the girl's soul in his open palms; the glow of Shizuka's pure soul illuminates the dark room with a tender light.

Ryou rounds on him once again. _Put her soul back._

The Spirit drops the soul back down to the girl. The light seeps into Shizuka's chest, lighting her up from the inside out. At once, the girl's skin begins to take on a healthy, living glow. She does not move - waking up after losing one's soul takes a few hours – but her gentle breathing and relaxed posture let Ryou know that she is safe. The Spirit does not seem bothered by his actions.

_She's fine._

Ryou doesn't have the strength to argue. There's two bodies in his room that he's kidnapped – one of which is rotting away – yet Ryou has no energy for it. He pops another pill in his mouth, swallows it dry with a grimace, and throws himself onto the bed before the nausea hits unbearable. He'll deal with the mess in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to poppy, who spent five hours reading and editing this with me ♥


	10. Chapter 10

Yuugi does not think that a small-scale, weekend tournament will require such intensive planning and preparation. He does not think about the rapid-fire marketing plans Seto would have to push forward to announce the tournament: bulletin boards, media announcements, banners, articles, even interviews from Yuugi and Seto themselves being the hosts of the tournament. Yuugi doesn't think about renting the venue – a public park in central Domino by the large clock tower – and about the organisation and money that is needed to pay down the damage deposit, the garbage deposit, and the space itself. Yuugi doesn't think about the security that will be needed to monitor the duels, or the officials that will need to be paid to ensure the validity of the duels. He doesn't think about registration, or match styles, or rules, or semi-finals, or even about prizes other than the rare cards Seto is offering up in hopes of bribing either Bakura or Malik to enter.

Yuugi doesn't think about anything because there is nothing he _wants_ to think about.

This is stupid. This is all stupid, stupid, _stupid._ Are Bakura and Malik going to fall for this? Was anyone going to fall for an impromptu dueling tournament hosted by the CEO who not a week before had cancelled his tournament? No.

No, this isn't going to work. No, everything is wrong and nothing is right. Nothing looks right when there's seven missed phone calls on his mobile and he hasn't bothered to even check one of the six voicemails. Nothing feels right when there's a hole in his chest from where _something special to him_ should be hanging. Nothing is getting better. Nothing is going as planned despite Anzu's forced optimism and Jounouchi's shameless pride. The tournament is under construction despite being days away, and while motivation – and perhaps an unhealthy dose of obsession – fuels Seto into pushing this project forward, that same motivation is lost on Yuugi. He's not motivated to continue anything.

With a sigh, Yuugi scrapes his hands over his face where dried tears have stuck to his pale cheeks. He's been up since the early hours of the morning but hasn't bothered to get out of bed and be productive. No one else is up yet, unless the noises he's been hearing downstairs are from his grandfather making tea and not Yuugi's overactive imagination. Jounouchi is still with him; that much is a blessing. His best friend is snoring softly next to him, blond hair whipped over gentle eyes. Without much space left on the bed after Yuugi claimed it all, he's squished along the edge with his gangly legs hanging over the side. What a hero.

Shizuka hasn't returned home yet, but Anzu assured Jounouchi that Shizuka needed to go for overnight tests to make sure that her eyes, while both resting and active, were healing well from the treatment. The fight last night had been of epic proportions:

> “ _That's the dumbest reason I've ever heard,” Jounouchi tells her. “She said she'd be back tonight.”_
> 
> “ _She's staying another night for follow-up –”_
> 
> “ _She's an outpatient – that means she comes home!”_
> 
> “ _Stop shadowing her!”_
> 
> “ _I'm_ protecting _her, like a big brother is supposed to do.” A pause. “Fuck it, I'm going after her.”_

Shizuka had called minutes later to say that she was staying overnight for some check-ups, and that she'd be back late in the morning. Jounouchi had still been suspicious and berated the hospital staff for using vague language, but in the end there was nothing anyone could do about it, and Shizuka stayed the night.

“You awake?” Jounouchi kicks his hip for added measure.

Yuugi smiles and rolls his way. “In a sense.”

“Good – get up. I'm starving.” Before Yuugi can protest that he is quite comfortable among the warm blankets and that he _really_ doesn't want to get out of bed ever, Jounouchi strips the bed of every blanket and pillow. “Get up – no one spends the day in their room.”

“I would,” Yuugi mutters.

“I wouldn't let you,”Jounouchi challenges with a levelled stare. “Up and at 'em.”

Yuugi buries his face in the mattress. “Make me,” he says, voice hidden behind the fabric. If Yuugi had his way, he'd hide away in his room until this mess sorted itself out of his own, but Jounouchi's not going to let him sulk away. With a strong tug, Yuugi feels something lift him off the bed and onto his unsturdy legs. Though Jounouchi is much taller, he's crouched in front of Yuugi, sparkling brown eyes piercing his own.

“The mistakes of today aren't going to be made from your room, so you might as well come down and help me make breakfast. I'd like to see your so-called 'cooking skills' in action.”

An awkward laugh bubbles in Yuugi's throat. “Fine. You've already got me on my feet.” He makes for the door, but before he can head downstairs, he turns to Jounouchi. “I'll show you who's the king of the kitchen.”

The smile Yuugi sees is breathtaking. “You're on!”

With sloppy fingers and tired minds, Jounouchi and Yuugi prepare the simplest of breakfast in the kitchen. They bump hips as they whip up tamagoyaki, and Jounouchi pulls out the pickled vegetables and plops them in a large bowl. Neither of them can say their cook skills are top-notch, but Jounouchi's been fending for himself for a while and is the master of the 'basic and broke cookbook' – he can whip up a meal with the bare minimums in the fridge. What he and Yuugi prepare is a bit more of a delicacy than either of them thought they could manage, and they arrange their food on the big table and wait for the others to trickle downstairs.

“Shizuka's coming home today,” Jounouchi says. “She didn't say when her appointment ended, but maybe we'll go and pick her up around ten. That OK?'

“Fine with me,” Yuugi says around a mouthful of egg. “I – I think she'll be OK, Jounouchi. She's looking for independence, or so it seems, but I doubt she's averse to having her big brother pick her up. She's not embarrassed by your love.” A memory flashes behind Yuugi's tired eyes – Shizuka sobbing at the corner of the pier, watching her beloved big brother drop-kick the Puzzle into the sea, tears in both siblings eyes as the gold sailed into the sea. She'd been crying that night too, even though she hadn't known a thing about the Puzzle or it's importance, or even about the close bond he shared with her brother. It was one thing for the Puzzle to be broken, but by Jounouchi, his best friend? That tore a hole bigger than the universe in Yuugi's heart.

“She loves me,” Jounouchi states.

“Yeah.” A pause. “Jounouchi-kun?”

“What?”

“What if the tournament doesn't work?”

“It's going to work.”

“But what if it _doesn't_?”

Jounouchi doesn't turn to look at him, but in the way he holds himself and talks, Yuugi is captivated by his friend's presence. “You're just feeling sad. You won't be able to see it, or think it's possible, or think that things are going to be any less than fine. That's OK. But it's going to get better. If anyone can capture public attention, it's Kaiba Seto. That rich bastard's ego demands an audience. Plus no one's going to turn away from a tournament – the public'll shame him and hold him accountable for ruining the weekend, but in the end they'll bounce back at the mention of the tournament. Happens all the time.”

“Yeah.” Yuugi swallows.

“It's OK if you can't see it now. It's hard. But it's there. I'll show you someday.”

“Show you what?” Honda says, waltzing down the stairs, fully-dressed, ready to face the world. Yuugi feels unprepared in his button-up pyjamas and messy hairdo, and a glance to Jounouchi – who hasn't bothered to dress or clean up either – makes Yuugi feel like perhaps Honda is overdressed for the morning.

Yuugi pushes the breakfast bowls towards Honda, who eagerly digs into the tamagoyaki while forgoing the pickled vegetables. He passes over the tea next in a mug decorated with first generation Pokémon. Honda laughs when he glances at it, but he says nothing while Yuugi finishes serving breakfast to him.

“It's a secret,” he says after a moment. “What's seen but can't be seen.”

“It's friendship, isn't it?” Honda deadpans. “You said that when we were on Pegasus' island.”

Yuugi can't hide his smile. “I don't know what you mean, Honda-kun.”

“Very funny, Yuugi.” A pause to take a bite of eggs. “So tell me, when are we going to get Shizuka?”

“Very funny,” Jounouchi growls. “Your ass is staying here while Yuugi and I go get 'er.”

“So I'm the sidekick?”

“More like the background character who makes useless comments.” Yuugi is surprised Honda doesn't vault over the table to strange Jounouchi, but instead settles for staring him down with a calculated glance. The anxiety in the room is beginning to dissipate, even if Yuugi's fingers itch to touch the Puzzle and his body feels heavy with burdens. He can hear the sound of his mobile going off yet again – eight calls from one Kaiba Seto – yet he doesn't have the strength or will to talk to his classmate. He'll call back later, say he was sleeping (because does Seto even sleep? He's called every hour of the night), and then get to work on helping plan the tournament.

“What does that make you then? The comic relief?”

Jounouchi points his fork down the table. “The deuteragonist.”

Honda stops eating.“The what?”

“The deuteragonist – the next most important person.”

“How the fuck do you even know that word?”

“I know lots of words, dumbass.”

Honda rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. Then he cocks his head to the side. “Isn't that just a fancy way of saying sidekick?”

“No,” Jounouchi snaps.

“Yes,” Anzu says. Her short hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and there are at least a half-dozen hair clips holding up her short hair. She must've been up for a while if she was fixing her hair, or perhaps she wakes up as a goddess. Either way, she jumps right into the conversation with her wisdom: “The deuteragonist is the second actor, and they're often the sidekick to the protagonist. It's not an insult – if anything it's an honourable role. If Yuugi's our protagonist, that makes you his closest companion, Jounouchi.” She smiles at the boys crowding around the food liked starved wolves, who all appear stunned by her words.

Jounouchi gathers his bearings right away: “Of course. I'm Yuugi's best friend.” Cue the butterflies gathering in Yuugi's stomach. “And that's why I'm the deuteragonist.”

“Sidekick.”

“I'll kick your ass out of that chair if you say that again,” Jounouchi threatens with a goofy smile. He hides his grin in his tea cup – this one decorated in glow-in-the-dark stars like the ones Yuugi has on his bedroom ceiling – when he takes a long drink. Finished, he stands up. “'M getting ready to go. You coming, Yuugi?”

It takes great strength for Yuugi to tear his gaze away from the tabletop to meet Jounouchi. “'M coming.”

* * *

The next time Yuugi thinks about his friends – those who have supported him through this bleak, depressive episode of his life – is when he's on the train and Jounouchi is still going off on Anzu and Honda about being the deuteragonist to Yuugi's protagonism. Yuugi hardly sees himself as a hero, but he doesn't want to shut down Jounouchi's rant. It's not that he doesn't see himself as important; the numbers of phone calls from Seto and the support of his friends shows that others care about him. But that's just it – they care _about_ him. To them, he is a thing to which they must devote their time and energy, like a pet. Like a being. He is a being that is doing things. It sounds pitiful, but the Puzzle was a symbol of his importance, of his protagonism as someone who deserves to live. He deserves to exist now, but live? They want him to live because they want something of him – friendship, companionship, dueling. He is a means to others, and it makes Yuugi sick to his stomach that he can't exist as anything more than a means to someone else's end.

But while these thoughts remain dark, the tepid sunshine streaming through the wide windows of the train car filter the busyness of the salarymen crammed around them. Honda had told them it shouldn't have been as busy on the metro at 10 am, but Yuugi suspects that this particular railway is popular (which travels into town and towards the offices and hospital) at all hours of the day. There are no seats for any of them, so they stand, pressed against each other, and try not to fall too much into one another. The others have their arms stretched up to hold onto the hanging handrails, but Yuugi has to cling onto one of the floor-to-ceiling metal poles.

They are on their way to pick up Shizuka. None of them know where she'll be or when she'll come out, but everyone has their own theory, and Yuugi half-expects Honda to start placing bets. If it wasn't for the sad feeling tearing him apart, Yuugi would've made a game of it too. However, his mind has no room for that.

The hospital is just as busy as when they visited to look for Bakura. Patients, nurses, and doctors mill about the main lobby, while technicians and receptionists man the counters and desks. Though they have debated the entire way about where to check first, it becomes clear from one view of the map – and all fourteen floors of the hospital – that they won't be able to find Shizuka without some assistance.

Jounouchi struts up to the nearest desk, behind which sits a young woman, mid-thirties, with her hair in a tight ponytail. “I'm looking for my sister, Kawai Shizuka.”

“A patient?” the nurses asks.

“Yes. She had surgery last Wednesday, and she had a check-up yesterday and today.”

The woman doesn't act as if she's heard him. “Do you have ID confirming your relationship to Kawai-san?”

“Yeah, lemme get my wallet out.” Jounouchi reaches into his back pocket to pull out a stack of cards. He slaps his NHI card and student ID onto the counter for the woman to see. She examines both of them before tapping something into the computer before her.

“Jounouchi Katsuya-san?”

“Yes.”

“Your sister is not receiving any treatment today. She had an appointment yesterday, but she was sent home afterward.”

“No.” Jounouchi's voice is grave. “I called her last night and she said she was staying overnight at the hospital and that she was meeting with a doctor today.”

The nurse seems confused; Jounouchi looked pained. Yuugi tries to imagine how his friend must be feeling knowing that his little sister is missing in the city. If she were missing in the hospital - _“Yeah, she went to the bathroom but we haven't seen her in about fifteen minutes.”_ – that would be frightening, but this is terrifying. Shizuka is only thirteen and a stranger to Domino City, yet she is out there, alone, without anyone to protect her –

“Wouldn't she need to be checked out by an adult?”

“An adult did sign her out.” The nurse slips over a piece of paper, a medical release form, signed by Kaiba Seto. The signature is unmistakable, and Yuugi feels his heart break in two at seeing his rival's handwriting scribbled over the form that let Shizuka be taken away. Yuugi wants to know why Seto was releasing Shizuka from the hospital. He wants to know who took Shizuka away, as it wasn't Seto, and why Shizuka disappeared. If Seto signed her out, who took her away?

The others stare at the hospital release form for several moments too. Each of them has a different expression on their face: Anzu, fear; Honda, disgust; Jounouchi, anger. Yuugi's not sure what expression he has the energy to make, but he hopes he looks sad. He is sad. Perhaps Seto was trying to do a nice thing for them by getting the hospital to release Shizuka so she could come home on her own to them, but this kind gesture was lost when someone else also knew that Shizuka would be released from the hospital on that day. Yet Shizuka is missing. Jounouchi's baby sister is lost.

“What is Kaiba-kun doing here?”

“Kaiba-sama requested that Kawai-san be released last night after her appointment. We received this letter via fax.”

So Seto didn't come to get her. He ordered for her to be released, but he wasn't there to pick her up.

“Who did pick her up?” Yuugi asks.

“I don't know,” the woman says.

“I'm thinking Malik,” Jounouchi hisses; that name on Jounouchi's tongue is the elephant in the room and the knife to Yuugi's heart. It's poison on his friend's lips, spat out like curdled bile in a vat of misery and loathing. Yuugi never wants to hear about Malik again. He can feel sorry for the circumstances the Ishtars were placed in and he can grieve for the burden carried by the firstborn sons of the Tombkeepers, but feel sorry for Malik? Never. Malik has hurt his friends. Malik has hurt the beautiful bonds of friendship Yuugi has created with Jounouchi, the Pharaoh, Ryou, and Shizuka; he's wound himself like a serpent in the lives of Yuugi and his friends, breaking them apart and pitting them against each other for his sick revenge-quest. Ishizu may lament that Malik is troubled and seeks retribution, yet how can Yuugi hope to give Malik light when the boy is bent on getting even? Malik doesn't want to be saved; Malik wants to get the final hit.

Yuugi won't let him. It ends here.

“Thank you,” he whispers. He grabs Jounouchi's hands and turns to leave. “We're going.”

“Where?”

“To Kaiba-kun.”

Jounouchi isn't holding him back. He walks parallel with him, hand in hand, cold palms crushed by bony fingers. Anzu and Honda are behind them, and while Yuugi can hear Anzu saying something to him, he tunes her out. It's not that he doesn't want to hear Anzu; it's that he doesn't want to hear her pacifist words. Anzu needs to save those words for Seto when she tears him down a notch. Honda isn't saying anything; Yuugi will ask him for his opinion later, once he's certain he can speak rationally and Honda has had enough time to think on the situation and come up with a logical course of action.

Yuugi isn't thinking logically anymore.

“Kaiba-kun wanted Shizuka to come back to us, but he didn't tell us anything. He had an idea.”

“A stupid idea.” Jounouchi squeezes his hands tighter. “What right does he have dischargin' my sister from the hospital? Why is he even around her?”

“He wasn't near her,” Anzu says.

“Doesn't matter,” Jounouchi snaps. “He was messin' with something he should've left the _fuck_ alone. Bastard. How would he even know?”

“Did anyone tell him?” is Anzu's suggestion. Yuugi doesn't voice his own opinion. He remembers catching Shizuka and Mokuba together and thinking, _There's someone else her age – someone that might understand her._ Had Shizuka told him when Seto and Mokuba came over for a visit to discuss Battle City plans? And then had Mokuba told Seto? Or had Seto found out through some research?

They head out from the hospital and back on a crowded train, though this one takes them deeper into the city to KaibaCorp. The buildings become taller and thicker the further they travel into the heart of Domino, but KaibaCorp is bigger and more oppressive than any other office in the city. Yuugi cranes his neck to look up the glass windows to the decorative “KC” letters that stand like statues atop the skyscraper. There a tinge of fear at looking up and seeing the building looming over them, but then the doors slide open and Mokuba comes out, dressed up a crisp suit. He raises an eyebrow at them.

“Hey, why are you here?”

“Did you know Shizuka was leaving the hospital last night? Did you tell your creep of a brother that she was leaving, so he discharged her himself?” Jounouchi doesn't lay a hand on Mokuba, but his words seem to hit Mokuba with such force. Despite being dressed up for his job, Yuugi has never seen Mokuba look so young and fearful.

“I – I told him you'd be at the hospital to pick up Shizuka, and he said we'd go get her for you. She was supposed to come home on the train to you.”

“What the _fuck_ does he have with getting involved with my sister?” Jounouchi screams. “That prick has no right to be around her.” He balls his hands in tight fists, appearing ready to scream at any moment. His entire posture radiates aggression. Yuugi holds Jounouchi's arm to let him know that yes, he is angry, and no, he cannot storm into KaibaCorp and beat the information out of either Kaiba. That won't solve anything: if Seto did let Shizuka leave the hospital, it meant he was keeping tabs on what was going on at the game shop and on all of them, and that he thought he should intervene. Seto let Shizuka leave knowing that it was the best course of action.

Oh how wrong he is.

“I don't know,” Mokuba says, throwing up his arms in defense. Then he crosses them and stares the group down, appearing much more the little businessman his brother must expect him to be. His long, dark hair is tied in a loose ponytail that lets the uneven strands cascade down his back; what hair is left is fastened with bobby pins. “Look – my older brother wanted you to stay at the house so Shizuka could come home. That's all I know. He's up in his office, but I doubt you'll get in to see him.”

“I'll break the damn door down if I have to,” Jounouchi growls. He storms past Mokuba and marches up the clean, marble steps. The double-doors to KaibaCorp whiz open on command, letting a fresh breeze of A/C out to freeze the sweat on their hot faces. Just like in the hospital – and everywhere else they've seem to have visited – there are receptionists and lobbies and dozens of people in crisp businesswear milling around the foyer. Yuugi doesn't know how they're even going to get to Seto's office, but Jounouchi is on a mission. He marches to the first receptionist he sees, slams his hands down on her desk – not for added effect, but to catch her attention and stop himself from going over the poor woman's workspace – and demands, “I want to see Kaiba.”

“He's busy,” the woman quips. She doesn't even look up at them. OK, ‘scratch’ poor, terrified receptionist. This woman could look Death in the eye and blink; her chill could freeze hell over thrice. She continues to type without looking once at her keyboard, and she has an impressionable ability to ignore all four teenagers crowding around her desk. Yuugi catches Jounouchi bite his lip.

“Ahem,” Jounouchi says. “Look, I need you to tell Kaiba that his classmates need to see him. Magic Nation – tell Kaiba that and the jerk'll know who we are.”

“Jounouchi,” Anzu hisses, “language! That's not going to get us an audience with Kaiba.”

“We're not going to him for a comedy show – he can come down in his pyjamas for all I care.”

Yuugi can see this going wrong. They're going to get ejected from the building.

The secretary still hasn't spoken to them, so Jounouchi makes it known that he's meeting Seto no matter what and pushes off from the woman's desk. With his shaking hands shoved in his pockets, Jounouchi takes off down the hallway towards the elevators. The secretary doesn't go after him, but Yuugi spots two security officers leave from a room and move towards Jounouchi. Yuugi wants to cry out to his friend, but his words die in his throat when Jounouchi turns around to look at him.

“You coming?

“Jounouchi-kun,” he whispers.

“What are you doing here?” The elevator doors open and Kaiba Seto, in his sweeping trenchcoat and black buckles, coffee mug in his hand, stares them down like flies on a wall.

“You fucker!” Jounouchi shouts back.

Seto shrugs.

“Why'd you release her? Where is she?”

“Your sister called me and asked me to release her. She said she was going to surprise you.”

“Shizuka wouldn't do that!”

Seto shrugs yet again. Yuugi catches his rival's eyes on him and he shivers. It isn't that he is afraid of Kaiba Seto the human, or Kaiba Seto the businessman, but Kaiba Seto the CEO is a terrifying sight to behold. Yuugi starts to wonder what connections Seto has, like how he knew how to get Shizuka out of the hospital without being biologically related to her, or how he simply faxed the hospital a permission slip and the staff believed the teenage girl would be safe. There's probably even shadier deals that Seto's been involved with, but Yuugi tries not to think about those as Seto sets out to explain to Jounouchi that he hasn't seen his little sister, only that he did her a favour by getting her out without an adult guardian.

Jounouchi does not take the information well.

“You don't just leave a child to fend for herself –”

“Shizuka told me she was quite comfortable taking the metro –”

“Then don't listen to her!” Jounouchi cries. “Fuck, Kaiba! You actually thought she'd be OK when Malik is on the loose? Would you let Mokuba travel on his own when days before yours and your friend's lives were threatened by a psychopath? I don't think so. Shizuka would still be here if you didn't get involved. You have no right to be in our lives, so back off. This has nothing to do with you.”

“I thought she would go home,” is all Seto says.

“Kaiba-kun,” Yuugi begins, “how does Shizuka know your number? She must've called your personal mobile, right, and not the KaibaCorp company's line.”

“She knows Mokuba's number. Is she missing?”

“She never came home,” Yuugi answers. His voice sounds rough and hollow, and he clears his throat to ease the strain. “We need to find Shizuka. Malik might've found her, and finding Shizuka could mean finding Malik, Bakura, and the Ghouls. That's not to say that Shizuka is bait” – he gives Jounouchi a quick, confirming glance – “but that if we find her fast, we'll find the others. I doubt Bakura will stay in one place for long, and Malik's probably on his way out of the country unless he has other business to attend to in Domino. We need to act fast and find everyone, and we need to find Shizuka and Bakura first.”

“So you want another missing person's report?” Seto says.

“And an active search for her. She went missing last night – she can't have gone far.”

From his other side, Anzu speaks up: “What about asking Ishizu-san? She might not know who Shizuka-chan is, but she knows Malik. I'll bet she or her older brother know what Malik might do if he found someone.” She steps up to Seto, skirts swaying around her ankles. “We can come up to fill out the report for you if you think it'll be too hard.”

“I don't need you in my office,” Seto snaps. “I'll have it done by tonight.” He turns to Yuugi. “Magic Nation is in one week. I'd like to think you won't procrastinate on this as if it's a school project. I expect to see your work on my desk by the end of this week.”

Oh. Right. He's supposed to be organising how the 'fun' aspects of the tournament should play out: the duels, merchandising, advertisements, and general layout of the tournament itself. Of course, they have several key ideas to lead Malik and Bakura to the tournament, such as including a prize of a god card. Anything to draw people to the tournament falls under Yuugi's control. He hasn't put much thought into what he needs other than the god cards – maybe some new, rare cards (although Malik is already running an illegal trading card organisation), or money (although both of them must have enough of that). Millennium Items are out of the question because of previous situations that have occurred when _either_ of them have been around the Items.

Seto is long gone by the time Yuugi comes around to say, “Sure.” Sure, he'll pull something together. Sure, he'll make it work. Sure, this idea may survive but he won't.

“Let's go,” Jounouchi grumbles. “We'll go find Shizuka ourselves.”

“Kaiba _is_ putting out a missing person's request,” Honda says, “but that's just flyers and small advertisements. If someone _has_ gotten her, Jounouchi, we'll need to backtrack all the places she's been, all the people she's met –”

“If Malik has her,” Anzu interrupts, “she could be at the pier.”

“But didn't Kaiba also send someone out to the pier? They found the boat and all, but there wasn't anything.” Honda shrugs and looks at Jounouchi. His friend's face is pinched in concentration. Jounouchi walks with the determination of a soldier; he holds himself up high and marches forward. “Hey, are you going to the pier?”

“I'm going to get Shizuka,” Jounouchi grounds out. “I'll look everywhere if I have to.”

Yuugi makes a weak attempt for Jounouchi's hand – anything to ease the pain his best friend is feeling – but he falls inches short when Jounouchi's pace picks up. They hurry through the darkened streets whose lampposts create greater shadows than artificial light. It's still busy on the moonlit streets with the hundreds of shoppers returning from work, and Yuugi has to jog to keep up with Jounouchi and the others who walk ahead of him. Jounouchi is on a mission; Anzu and Honda are on his heels with suggestions.

Yuugi is falling behind, struggling to reach his friend.

_I want my words to reach you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to poppy who is just as much of a wishshipper as i am ♥


	11. Chapter 11

They make it to the pier in record time. They soon realise that despite knowing that Malik was living on a boat by the pier, that information does little to narrow down their search results, and so they have been perusing the dock for several minutes without a clue what they should be looking for. The boats docked along the concrete pier are all lovely, rich crafts: they bob tethered alongside the dock, appearing like giant seagulls resting on the water. Unlike the city, the pier is silent; if anyone is coming to see the water, they're further down where one can capture breath-taking views of the sunsets.

Despite it being summertime, it is still chilly by the sea. Yuugi tucks his hands under his armpits and hugs himself close to keep warm. The others have mimicked his actions, and they huddle close for warmth while Anzu dials Kaiba to ask how to find Malik. She holds the mobile in front of them and sets it to speaker-phone. After a staticky dial tone and a loud click, a voice comes through: “This is not a personal number, Mazaki.”

“Would you like to offer yours up?” Jounouchi says back. “We have a question for you, so listen up. What's Malik's ship look like? Y'know, the boat he came on –”

Even though Yuugi thought it impossible, he hears Kaiba sigh through the mobile. “I get the point without your rambling.” And now there's a moan through the speaker; Yuugi's heart races. “Look for the purple one. You'll see it. You can't miss it.”

Seto is right. When Yuugi lifts his eyes up from the mobile, not twenty metres away he sees a large, purple watercraft peeking out of one of the covered docking stations. Approaching, Yuugi spots the decorative, foreign paint job that is sports; the large, gold eye at the front of the ship stares through Yuugi, eerily reminding him of the Eye of Wadjet that each of the Millennium Items sports. There are smaller gold details embossed along the handrails that lead up the ramp to the main deck. While the boat had seemed larger from the ground, up high there is little space to maneuver around. The front is wide, but it cuts off at the back, and to keep them all on the boat they have to huddle close to each other.

Once they all manage to squeeze onto the boat, the next step is to shuffle towards the small door that leads down to the living quarters. As soon as they open the door, the floor drops down in quick steps to the main room; the bedroom and bathroom are tucked along the far wall, though the entire space isn't much bigger than Yuugi's living room. There is a cosy booth with a long table, and adjacent to the small eating area is an old television set. The kitchen sits behind the booth, well-stocked despite the lack of people living on the boat, and the used dishes and stained counters betray that whoever lived here either was not clean or left in a hurry.

With Anzu and Jounouchi pressed against him, Yuugi has no choice but to take the three steps down to the room and step forward to allow everyone else to fit inside. There's something wrong about poking his head into someone else's room, so Yuugi peruses the kitchen for anything interesting or suspicious. There are no notes or plans lying around this area; if anything, this boat looks like it might've belonged to a wealthy, travelling family.

Jounouchi barrels past everyone and begins kicking in doors to look for Shizuka. She is in none of the rooms, but Jounouchi then takes it upon himself to unearth everything of Malik's. Books, blankets, and clothes are thrown to the floor in a messy pile, yet Shizuka is nowhere to be found. Perhaps Malik took her elsewhere, perhaps Shizuka was never here in the first place. However, Jounouchi does not give up. Once the drawers are open, they are moved from the walls to check for hidden doors and locks. The meticulousness of Jounouchi's search is remarkable if not terrifying from the way he checks out every possible avenue.

The others help him search after a few minutes of watching him deconstruct Malik's room. They hurry off to the kitchen and living room and begin to check compartments, though Jounouchi reminds them that he'll still be checking those areas too. Their searches aren't nearly as thorough, perhaps because this isn’t their sister that’s been taken away by a criminal But to Jounouchi, Shizuka is his other light. Shizuka is who he fought for in Duelist Kingdom. Shizuka is who he protected when he chose to go with his father. Shizuka is who he sees in happy memories of beach trips and park visits, back when they were carefree children who thought Mom and Dad leaving the house “to chat” was simply that. He's already lost Shizuka before; now that she's back, Jounouchi holds tight to her and refuses to let her slip away. He'll never lose his sister again.

“Wanna help?” Jounouchi asks. Yuugi looks up, eyes wide. He'd spaced out when the others started to separate and check the boat, but he hadn't thought he'd been standing there for quite so long. It's unnerving to try and keep himself grounded in reality.

Wordlessly, Yuugi takes up a place next to Jounouchi and begins milling through documents. Malik must've been taught to be a scribe during his childhood, judging by the calligraphic writing that graces the pages of a dozen notebooks. Most of it is written in Arabic, though there are two notebooks Yuugi finds that contain both Japanese and English text, among other languages, that are scribbled in the margins of the books. The Japanese that Yuugi finds tells little about Malik's plans; in fact, it's not even Malik's words. About three lines into the text Yuugi realises that he's read this before – last year, in fact – when his literature professor assigned _Confessions of a Mask_ as one of their selected readings.

“Malik writes a lot,” Yuugi comments, holding out the notebook for Jounouchi to see. “This is all written by Malik, but that part there” – he points to the copied text – “is from a literature book.”

“So Malik's copying text as well as cards?”

Yuugi looks back to the sheet. “I don't think so,” he begins. “Malik's Japanese writing isn't very confident. I'd say he was trying to teach himself how to write Japanese.”

“So he could come here?” Jounouchi pushes a large, oak dresser to the middle of the room. He returns back to the now-exposed wall and gives it three strong taps. The sound it makes comes out solid, not hollow, and so the dresser is replaced and Jounouchi continues searching the area.

"Maybe." Yuugi flips to the next page, where it is clear Malik was writing without copying as it is littered in grammatical errors and messy kanji. "Malik wanted to come to Japan to find the Pharaoh. That means he must've known I had the Puzzle."

"How would he have known though?" Jounouchi says. "Like you're famous, Yuugi, but you're not the superstar who appears on every M&W ad. That's Kaiba. If Malik was looking for you, he must've been looking pretty hard."

"What about Duelist Kingdom? Pegasus must've had a list. And though there was no broadcasting while on the island, I'm sure someone with a camera was snapping pics of us climbing onto that ship. And then afterwards when we were heading back? Don't you think someone would've tried to take a picture of us too." Yuugi shrugs. "I mean, it's farfetched and all that Malik would have looked that closely at photographs to piece it all together, but maybe we're taking him for granted. Maybe he's smarter than we thought."

Jounouchi looks up from his work and frowns. "You think he found Shizuka that way? By looking through photographs of us?"

Yuugi shakes his head. "The Ghouls found her. They entered in Battle City too, so for all we know they could've been spying on us – and every other citizen in Domino – to see what we were doing. Plus Malik can control them without even being nearby. Malik could've been watching us this entire time."

The words seem to make Jounouchi cringe. His fingers flex against the rough wood of Malik's bed. "Do you think he can sit in the back of people's minds and still be aware of what's happening? Like Bakura – that spirit can watch things happen without taking control, I think, and that means he can be aware of what's going on. Do you think Malik is the same way?”

"The same way as Bakura-kun?" Yuugi echoes. "No, it's nothing like that. It's like ..."

"He's controlling you?" Jounouchi offers. His lips purse together like he's eaten something sour, as if the thought of being controlled, manipulated, and used leaves a bitter, rotten taste in his mouth. Jounouchi knows well what it's like to be controlled.

"Exactly. Bakura-kun is possessed; Malik's lackeys are being manipulated." Yuugi pauses to look down at the pages in his hands. "But Malik isn't using the Ghouls anymore, unless he's separated them into which ones he finds useful, and which ones he finds disposable. If Malik is getting his lackeys to go after Shizuka, then that means all the Ghouls aren't dead."

"Or," Jounouchi adds, "it means Malik went after my sister on his own."

"Right." Yuugi flits through the papers, once again looking for any mention of Malik's plans. He finds some English literature that rings an even vaguer bell in his mind; he rarely read his English lit. books anyways, so if Malik is quoting the famous George Orwell or Shakespeare, Yuugi won't pick up on the reference. After the literature pages, Yuugi begins to spot sketches and drawings in the margins. These pages soon bleed into full-size illustrations of dark towers illuminated by sparks of light, and bleary landscapes that reflect the overall bleakness of Malik's psyche. The farther back in the notebook they get, the more Yuugi begins to understand the torment Malik has endured. He's not forgiven the tombkeeper for what he's done, but there's blossoming recognition of what happened to Malik during his childhood has influenced the darkness that was already present in his life. Malik's darkness has been cultured by the trauma and stress of the Tombkeepers.

It is then Yuugi spots the picture. It's the only photo in the room, so his eyes should've been drawn to its grand presence spanning over the dresser, but Yuugi hadn't been paying attention to anything that didn't look suspicious. This picture looks magnificent: the saturated colours of the sunset arc spread in an oily backdrop above a sea of gold sand. Sitting on the outcrop of the rocks are the siblings; Yuugi spots Ishizu first in her virgin-white gown and hijab. A Madonna lily – the purest of white flowers with a yellow base, like a sun peeking through the fluffy clouds – rests in her lap, with the green stem contrasting against the simplicity of her dress. Rishid sits just a step above her on the rock, a warm smile on his scarred face. In his hands he holds two lilies clasped together with a piece of twine. Malik sits between them. He looks younger than Yuugi would've thought, though perhaps all three siblings are younger. Their youthful faces betray the horrors they've witnessed as they pose for the camera. Malik's flowers are the biggest of all - a bouquet of two dozen lilies, so big that his thin arms have to wrap around the mass, which cover part of the grin on his face.

There's other things Yuugi catches from the photograph. The photo is centred on Malik. The siblings all wear gold jewellery, from the spire-shaped earrings dangling from Malik's ears, to the high choker Ishizu has clasped about her neck, to the worn armbands Rishid wears like battle armour. Both Malik and Ishizu's Millennium Items are blissfully absent, though Yuugi suspects the Ishtar clan still owns them. He can't see them throwing away what is so valuable to their family. There are no adults present, and while Yuugi wants to think that perhaps it's the adults taking the photo, it's more likely that their parents weren’t nearby, that this photo was taken using a delayed flash, because there are no houses or civilisation in sight. Yuugi can't see anything in the photo that would show that there are others nearby.

Jounouchi catches where Yuugi is looking and frowns. "You didn't see it? I guess he's sentimental about his family too." Jounouchi reaches out to grab the photo, as if to take it down and see if there's a date anywhere, when he pulls his hand back, shocked. There’s blood on the side of the picture, unnoticeable until Jounouchi lifted up the frame.

"Blood?" Yuugi whispers.

"I think." Jounouchi wipes his hands on his pants. His calmness to this new discovery is unnerving, but Yuugi puts on his most neutral expression and comes to stand next to his friend. There's dabs of blood along the side of the picture, and the carpet is dotted in faint smudges. Yuugi had thought it was dirt, but it appears something was hurt here.

Yuugi calls for Anzu and Honda to come, and the four of them crowd around the bloody picture with grim expressions. It appears the others haven't found any clues up until this point, but the new discovery now has them looking over every inch of the room for more bloodstains.

"You think it's from a Ghoul?" Honda asks.

Anzu shakes her head. "There's nowhere for a Ghoul to sleep in here. Unless Malik brought a Ghoul here for a meeting and then ..." She swallows, then continues in a softer voice: "And then killed him, I don't think it could be anyone else’s but Rishid-san or Malik's blood."

"But Rishid wasn't hurt when we met with him and his sister, so it can't be him. It must be Malik's blood."

Yuugi kneels down in front of the room. "There's bloodstains everywhere. If Malik was hurt, he was busy doing something."

"What if he brought the blood back with him? Like he had it on him from a kill and then he carried it around."

Anzu shivers. "Why wouldn't he just clean it off?"

The question leaves a foul taste in Yuugi's mouth. He doesn't want to imagine whose blood is littered around the room like a painting experience gone awry. He doesn't want to think about whether this is Malik's blood, a Ghoul's blood, a victim's blood. A dark part of his mind thinks this blood is from someone he cares for - a friend - but he pushes the dark thoughts away before they bring him to tears. No. He cannot think about such things when they have a mission to complete.

"We can always send off the bloodwork for testing," Honda suggests. "I've seen it in cop shows: the forensics send off the blood to the lab to test for matches to killers or victims, and then you can find out who's involved in the crime. We could get a match to either Malik or to a Ghoul.

Or to a victim, but Yuugi tries not to think of the innocent blood splattered across the room.

"We'll call Kaiba-kun and ask him to check for a match. Something of use will pop up." Anzu folds her arms over her chest and sighs. "This is getting really weird. If Malik's on the run, illegally, with a prisoner, and he couldn't even stay on his boat, where would he have gone too?"

"Maybe his siblings are hiding him," Honda says.

Yuugi shakes his head. Ignoring the wavering of his words, he says, "What about a hotel?"

"You'd need to check-in, which would require a name," Anzu explains. "And if he did check-in using an alias, finding the hotel he's staying at would be near-impossible - it's vacation season and most hotels are booked."

Jounouchi jumps on board with a look of determination. "No, but see here - Malik wouldn't be going to a hotel with lots of people. I doubt he went looking for any of the resort-style hotels downtown or in the mountains; no, he probably booked into the first one he found." Cracking his knuckles, Jounouchi reaches into the pile of Malik's paperwork and extracts a map of Domino. Even though Malik hasn't written anything in it, it's clear which pages he's looked at most by judging the clear fold lines in the sheets. "We're here at the pier. There's the hospital. There's Yuugi's house. Somewhere in that area there must be a few hotels, and I'd reckon Malik's closer to the suburbs because no one's willing to blow their cover to try and get a hotel in the city."

"So he's by Yuugi's house?" Anzu says.

"Most likely."

Leaning over the map, Yuugi tries to spot the street names and buildings located in Domino's nicer, quieter districts. He points to where his house is and drags his finger downwards. "There's one hotel on the same street as me, but it doesn't have a lot of rooms, and I think a family runs it by themselves. There's a couple Western-style hotels over this way that would be worth checking out." He pauses. "What if Malik is closer to Bakura-kun's house? He and the Spirit of the Ring are working together."

Honda shakes out the map to extend it further into the country. Bakura's house is miles away and a long train ride from any of the Battle City locations, so they abandon this idea moments later. The tangent is useful though: Yuugi's eyes flicker back to the blood stains and he wonders, just maybe, if they weren't even from an attack.

"What if Bakura-kun was here?" he voices.

"Like here-here? With Malik?"

"Look at the bloodstains. What if they aren't from an attack or anything, but from Bakura-kun's injury. The Spirit of the Ring broke out of the hospital, and there was blood in Bakura-kun's house when we went to visit. Maybe the same thing happened here."

"Do you think Malik and the Spirit were here?"

Yuugi shrugs. "It's likely. We should check to see if a hotel is registered under Bakura-kun's name too, just in case the Spirit and Malik are both hiding away.

"I can call Kaiba right now," Anzu says, pulling out her mobile and dialing the KaibaCorp number. Yuugi feels a bubble of anxiety in him for bothering Seto, but before Yuugi can voice his words, Anzu has already set the phone to speakerphone again and Seto's words crackle through the air.

"This is not a personal number, Mazaki."

"Are you going to give me your personal number?" Anzu quips.

"No."

"Then I guess I'll have to keep contacting you this way. Anyway," she drawls, "can you do a check? Malik's not here, but it's likely he's still in Domino, nearby, and this means he's at a hotel somewhere -"

"And you think he'll use his name to check-in? Unlikely -"

"I wasn't done talking," she snaps. "I was going to say that you should look for dates. I'm sure Malik is smart, but even if he uses an alias, it could stick out like a sore thumb. As well, look for hotels registered under the name 'Bakura'. If the Spirit is still working with Malik, or at least hanging around Malik, perhaps they've used that name as the alias. Bakura-kun hasn't been around in days; he could be hiding out too."

The phone line is silent for several moments, leaving Yuugi's stomach to drop in despair. They can't push their worries onto Seto, especially when he has made it quite clear that he will help them on his terms. Seto's desperate to go after the Puzzle, but catching Malik, finding Ryou, and rescuing Shizuka is the least of his concerns. In some way, this is motivating: Yuugi can worry about rescuing his friends while Seto retrieves the Puzzle from the ocean. However, Yuugi doesn't want to abandon his duty of rescuing the Pharaoh; not only is the Spirit of the Puzzle his friend, but he is his partner. The relationship Yuugi has with the ancient spirit cannot be explained; they are two halves that have connected in harmony to meet a goal. Yuugi can't think of anyone else with whom he shares such a close connection.

"You want me to find where your friends are hiding?"

"Not really friends," Honda corrects. "One enemy, and one enemy in a friend's body. But yeah - find them for us."

"I can’t help."

Before Yuugi can open his mouth, Anzu and Jounouchi are down Seto's throat with savage comments: "What do you mean you can't help? What the hell could be more important? You want the Puzzle back - you need to find the criminals who broke it in the first place. You want the murders to stop? Stop Malik. You want the Ishtars sent back home, the tournament to recommence, the chaos to stop? Find Malik and the Spirit of the Ring."

"I'm already organising your precious tournament. If you want to find Malik so badly, and you think that the tournament won't lead him out into the open, then by all means check them out yourself. I'm not your partner or assistant; I'm not going on a treasure hunt for other crazy people." Yuugi hears Seto laugh under his breath. "Don't call this number again - it's not a help line." The phone falls silent, and moments later the dial tone repetitively beeps.

"Well," Honda says, stretching his arms back behind his head. "He's good for nothing."

"That jerk," Anzu hisses. "He can get one of his assistants to help us out. I know he can. But no - he has a tournament to run and he can't stop to help us. He can. He can, Yuugi, and he won't. Well, we'll just have to do it all on our own, right?" She looks over her shoulder at him and grins. "We don't need him when we have great thinkers like you and me."

"And me," Jounouchi jumps in.

Anzu rolls her eyes.

But the praise is lost on Yuugi. It's lost on him when he knows that no matter who's looking for the Puzzle, it'll end up at a standstill. It already has. If Seto has sent the Coast Guard out to collect the Item and they haven't turned up with anything yet, it means the pieces weren’t down there. It means either someone has already collected the Puzzle, or something has brushed it deeper into the ocean. Yuugi hopes for the former, but it's more likely the ocean current has spread the pieces apart, buried others, and lost them all to the great depths of the sea.

Anzu spends the next ten minutes trying to figure out the best place to locate a telephone book so she can phone up each hotel and ask if a "Ryou Bakura" is in their residence. Honda explains that they won't give away such private information, but Anzu assures him that if they ask Seto for a permit that the police would otherwise issue to them, the hotel lobby employees will have no choice but to give them access to their guest list.

"But Kaiba's not gonna help us," Jounouchi points us.

"I'll just ask Mokuba-kun then," Anzu says. "He'll want to help out, especially if I say it's for Shizuka-chan."

"Maybe we should just let Kaiba-kun be," Yuugi says. "He's got a lot going on, and we're just adding to his stress. We can find Malik another way."

Though Anzu never meant, would never mean, to say such cruel words to Yuugi, the words he hears come from his best friend's mouth rend his heart into a thousand ragged pieces: "Do you not want to find the Puzzle? Do you not want to find Shizuka-chan and Bakura-kun, and get revenge on Malik, and save the Pharaoh? Is that not what you want, Yuugi?"

Yuugi doesn't know what he wants.

He can only think to do one thing – cry – and he he bows his head and lets the tears fall. They drip, thick and sticky, down his cheeks and catch in his shaking hands. Then his shoulders begin to quiver and hitch with the tumultuous rhythm of his sobs, which start first in his throat but then seem to come from somewhere deep inside him, somewhere Yuugi himself is unaware of. With each sob, Yuugi feels his life ebbing away. He wishes to cover his face with his hands and run back to his home, but everything has turned against him. Without his defences up, he is exposed. He cries for everyone to see, unable to hide anything from anyone.

Jounouchi, though not the closest, is the first to respond. He pulls Yuugi into a soul-crunching, heart-warming hug, the kind that reunites old lovers and draws long-lost friends together. Yuugi has never felt more alone when his best friend’s hands seem like ghosts along his back. Yuugi sobs into Jounouchi's shoulder, body pressed into the other's, and even when Yuugi becomes aware that he's soaked Jounouchi's jacket, neither of them break away. The precious moment doesn't ask for them to break away and check up on each other. Jounouchi holds tight like he'll never let Yuugi get away, never let him get so far in his own misery and self-loathing again. It's the kind of hug that Yuugi will remember time and time again – the kind of hug that draws Yuugi back into the light even when it's raining.

When the moment is right – when Yuugi's sobs have slowed just enough for him to not be distantly afraid of hyperventilating – Anzu joins in. She embraces him from the back, stretching her long, muscular arms over his shoulders and around his neck. Her head is bowed into the back of his hair; her nose presses into the juts of his spine. Yuugi knows that if Anzu had superpowers – and by god some days he does believe it – she would blast his unhappiness away and shower him in light.

The hug doesn't break away until Honda has had his fill of snuggles as well. Nestled in each other's grasp, neither of them thinks to break away until the piercing sound of seagulls catches them off-guard, and there is a hazy realisation that they should return home. Breaking away is less awkward when they're all covered in tear stains and no one has the energy to point out the obvious. It's sad. Yuugi's sad. He's done with it all, but the others are sticking with him, and for that he knows he can't give up yet. Everyone trusts in him to be strong, yet for the first time since the accident Yuugi thinks like they understand why he cannot be happy. There is no joy in his life without the Puzzle, with knowing that he hasn't sent the Pharaoh off with his memories. Yuugi hasn't fulfilled his promise to the other Yuugi and he can't live with himself knowing that he's left someone empty-handed.

Before he leaves, he takes with him the paperwork Malik has kept regarding his plans. Even though it's mostly handwritten notes in various languages, Yuugi thinks maybe he'll find something more about the Ishtars. If anything, he can ask Rishid about these documents; if anyone knows more about Malik, it has to be his quiet brother whose assisted him without a shred of guilt. These documents might mean something to the siblings too, so Yuugi considers stopping by Kaiba Corp and paying at visit to Seto and the Ishtars.

When Yuugi suggests this to Anzu, a slow grin spreads across her face. She phones Seto one more time - much to his displeasure - and lets him know that they'll be stopping by. She tells that there's more evidence regarding the Ishtars, and Seto growls out that he'll check it out later.

"You get out of the office? Don't you have people to do that for you?" Jounouchi taunts.

"I don't trust anyone but myself," Seto snaps before he hangs up on them.

"Well at least we know he's coming by to pick up the evidence," Jounouchi says, oblivious to Seto's harsh remark. "We can go to the hotels in the meantime, maybe pick up some lunch -"

Honda rolls his eyes. "Thinking with your head and stomach?"

"My head's thinking my stomach will need some food if we're supposed to be running around the city all day." Yuugi catches his friend's eyes on him and he feels his cheeks heat up. "We could all use some food. We can plan the rest of the day during that time. We'll find Shizuka and the Puzzle - they could even be together."

"Together?" Yuugi says, mostly to himself but Jounouchi picks up on the words.

"Yeah, together. If Malik and the other Bakura are together, and Bakura has the Puzzle, and Shizuka is with Malik, then they're all together. We just need to find one of them and then we find everyone. Easy peasy, huh?"

Anzu is the voice of reason: "There are at least a dozen hotels to search through, and if we get a permit through Mokuba-kun, then the hospitals will have to give up the information. We might as well start looking around too."

With the plans set, they head out with papers under their arms. Their first stop is Kaiba Corp, where Jounouchi nearly breaks down the front door to shout at Seto that the missing person's report isn't out yet, and that if it was anyone else missing - including Seto's own sibling, Mokuba - Seto would have the report out in minutes. Seto takes the verbal punch with a calm, impassive face, then explains that Mokuba has sent the report off hours ago and that the police are just getting ready to make a live broadcast for both Ryou and Shizuka.

Anzu hands off the evidence next. The heavy reports in Yuugi's hands give him the weight to ground him in reality, but once they're in Seto's hands the feeling of uselessness returns. Seto leafs through them for but a moment before he tucks them under his arm.

"Is that everything?"

Anzu shakes her head. "Mokuba-kun, can you please get me a permit? We're going to the hotels to try and find if they've seen Malik, Bakura-kun, or Shizuka-chan?"

Mokuba laughs. "It'll just be easier if I come with you."

Yuugi expects Seto to shut his brother down right away, but both siblings share a look that's not understood by anyone else, and it seems as if an agreement is reached when Mokuba ask them, "So are we going now or what?"

"Now?" Honda echoes.

"Or are we going to wait for the sun to set?"

Jounouchi rolls his eyes. "We're going now. Let's go." Yuugi doesn't miss the feeling of Jounouchi's hand on his shoulder, leading him away like a lost dog. He doesn't miss the way Seto's eyes follow him out the door, or the sarcastic remark Anzu says as she turns away - "I'm calling you again if something comes up." They leave the building with one more in tow: Mokuba is every bit the sarcastic ray of sunshine his brother never is. A child of contradictions: Mokuba is animated one moment, and caustic the next. It's hard to believe he is only a year younger that Shizuka by his looks, but while he's outwardly naive and exuberant, Yuugi knows Mokuba has seen horrors too. Mokuba was there on the pier - he saw the Puzzle shatter into the sea.

It becomes clear that Mokuba is a valuable asset to their team: with Jounouchi’s sheer determination and Mokuba's energy, they are rushing down the busy streets. The idea of sitting down for lunch is lost - as is the idea of stopping for any food - the moment Mokuba explains that he can get anyone to do anything because he's a Kaiba. The sheer power and authority this child possesses is remarkable; the fact that Mokuba knows what he's capable of is mildly terrifying.

The next leg of the journey begins while Yuugi's mind attempts to catch up on the events of the morning. They take the first train out of town towards his house, this time finding the ride more comfortable with fewer people squeezed into the monorail car. The warm sun lights up the beige accents in the car; Yuugi's head feels as if it's filled with cotton, and he lies against the bar in case he falls asleep. The day rushes by before his eyes.

"You sleeping on the train already?" Mokuba pokes him in the shoulder.

"Just resting," Yuugi murmurs.

"We might leave you on the train," Mokuba teases. He kicks his legs back and forth on the seats, before he seems to become aware of how childish this is, and his legs still, cross at the ankles, and his hands fold neatly in his lap. The position looks awkward on a young child; while externally young, it's clear his mind is years older than his peers.

"I wouldn't mind." It's true - Yuugi sees no harm in leaving him on the train to sleep away the sorrow in his heart. Maybe all he needs is a good night's rest.

Jounouchi senses his bleak mood and steps in. "Do you think that's even possible? You're short, but I know you - you can make yourself heard when you need to be." The words don't bring a smile to Yuugi's face.

Mokuba turns around to look out the window, where the peaceful, suburban sights slip by his vision in streaks of greens, whites, and blues. "This is close to your house, right, Yuugi?"

Yuugi nods. "We'll pass by my house on the way to one of the hotels."

"Where do you and Kaiba live, Mokuba-kun?" Anzu asks. She sits across from them; previously talking with Honda about video calling the Ishtars tonight, she now faces the younger Kaiba with a bright smile. Her question seems innocent, but Mokuba takes it with a cautious glance.

"On the other side of town."

"I thought Kaiba lived at his company," Jounouchi remarks.

Mokuba seems affronted; he crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Jounouchi. "He comes home every night and makes dinner for us, no matter what. He may work long hours every day, but we work together, as a team, and we go home together. No ifs, ands, or buts."

"Sounds like quite the life," Jounouchi drawls. "To have everything you want at your fingertips."

"I'm still waiting for Super Mario 64 to come," Mokuba deadpans. "Postal service sucks, even when the game comes from your own country."

This makes Yuugi laugh, even though the sound seems unnatural to his ears.

When they do get off the train and step onto the quiet platform - in the worst of the midday heat too, Yuugi notices, as he feels the sun beat down on him - it's in slightly brighter spirits. The conversation down the boardwalk to the hotel is cheery and effortless, mostly about dueling and deck strategies. Despite Mokuba having access to every card in the game, his deck is rather simple. There's quite a bit of thought put into it; though Seto's strategy revolves around bringing out his ace monster, Mokuba's strategies focus on powering up and polymerizing his animal-themed monsters. When he fans out his deck, Yuugi sees a deck of mostly monster-themed cards.

Jounouchi points out the mistake immediately: "You can't have a deck with all monster cards - you need some spell and trap cards too."

"These all count as spell and trap cards - look at their abilities." Sure enough, each monster card in Mokuba's deck boasts a hefty chunk of text describing it special abilities. Though the deck appeared innocent, Yuugi sees there is a lot of strategy put into Mokuba's deck. A cocky duelist wouldn't take his monster-themed deck seriously until the situation became too grave to back out of.

The boardwalk ends at the first hotel. The building is of moderate size, though the large bricks that form its walls make it seem like a fortress. Only in the suburbs would there be room for such a wide building. The rest of its exterior is softer: fragile flowers and plants bloom from the earth bordering a cobblestone path to the entrance, which Yuugi and the others take to get to the large, wooden door.

Inside, the interior is a cosy mix of blue and beige couches, with a check-in desk steps ahead of them. Mokuba's posture and appearance change the moment he steps through the doors and approaches the check-in attendant; no longer is the fun-loving kid, but the stern, sophisticated younger brother of Kaiba Seto. Mokuba meets the clerk's eyes with unwavering resolve, crossing his arms across his chest. The clerk is several years older, perhaps a recent graduate of university. Yuugi can't imagine standing up to someone years older than him, but then again, Mokuba is a Kaiba - there's higher authority coming just from him surname.

"My name's Mokuba Kaiba and I need to ask you a few questions concerning two recent disappearances broadcasting on the news - Kawai Shizuka and Bakura Ryou, to be exact. Do you know who I could speak to?"

The clerk shifts his eyes before bowing his head. "Let me get my supervisor."

The supervisor is older - old enough to be anyone's father, in fact - and he stares at each of the teenagers with a calculated expression before he spots Mokuba. The disgusted look vanishes to be replaced by a petrified stare. He doesn't stop staring until Mokuba asks him if there's anywhere where they can all meet in private.

They follow the man down two hallways into a private office, sparsely decorated except for two large, indoor plants that take up more room than the little desk pushed against the back wall. There's isn't much room leftover once they all squish inside, but if anyone's bothered by it, only the supervisor shows it. He tugs on his collar and looks at them, as if waiting for one of them to speak up.

Mokuba goes first. "I'm Mokuba Kaiba of Kaiba Corp. I'm looking for two missing persons, Bakura Ryou and Kawai Shizuka. I believe both of them have been kidnapped by someone hiding away in the city. I'd like to see your records, if you don't mind."

"Any name you're looking for?" the supervisor says. He does not pass over any documents.

Mokuba's voice doesn't waver at the defiance. "I'll be the judge of that." A pause. Mokuba slips over a search warrant. "Please pass them over."

Sighing, the supervisor bends  the papers in his hands **.** "You won't be able to find much if you're looking for a criminal. You think you'll find a criminal? The guy's probably covering his tracks."

While the words only make Yuugi's heart drop, Jounouchi snaps back with, "Sounds like you're hiding something."

"I'm hiding nothing," the supervisor says. "I'm just saying you'll have no luck finding someone based off a name." The supervisor does give up the forms, albeit with a grimace, and Mokuba hands them to Yuugi's shaking hands to look through. If Mokuba thinks he's the one in charge, Yuugi is about to prove to him just how lost he is in this mess. He leafs through the papers, eyebrows pinched in concentration. Yuugi isn't sure what to look for. There's hundreds of names and dates, but nothing stands out to him as suspicious. It's a busy summer, which means there'll be lots of families staying for days and weeks, and there's bound to be foreign names of tourists, but Yuugi can't see anything the screams 'criminal'.

With a pained smile, Yuugi turns to his friends. "Do you see anything?"

Jounouchi, who has been reading over Yuugi's shoulder even since he received the papers, shrugs. "Any weird requests?"

"None," the supervisor quips. He folds his hands on the desk, staring across the table at them. Yuugi can tell he's frustrated with them, but Jounouchi doesn't budge.

"How about injuries?"

"In the hotel?"

Jounouchi shrugs. "Or any guests complaining of injuries they've received. We're looking for two people who just came out of the hospital."

"I have nothing for you." The supervisor leans over the desk at them; Yuugi inches back in fear. "We are overbooked, extremely busy in this season, and there is no way I can tell you which guests have been complaining of aches and injuries. If you don't know who you're looking for, I can't help you. If you can't find anything from these papers, then I doubt anything I can offer you will be of use."

The supervisor's words are but another curse that will keep the Puzzle away from them, but Mokuba and Jounouchi seem anything but deflated from the criticism. Jounouchi leans back, casually slipping his hands in his pockets and shifting from foot to foot. Mokuba, while looking a bit frazzled, is intimidating when he channels his inner Kaiba: he puts both hands on his desk and matches the supervisor's controlled glare.

"That's fine," Mokuba says, false cheeriness laced in his words. "Thank you for your assistance."

They leave his office moments later, each with a mixed sense of accomplishment and guilt, except for Jounouchi and Mokuba, who stroll through the lobby with pride written on their smug faces. Yuugi can't help but feel jealous at their confidence as self-loathing festers in his chest. He hasn't done anything to help anyone, and meanwhile his friends are making deals to get the information they need from the people who seem to have it. Or, they think they have it. Yuugi is unsure whether or not they've learned anything new from the supervisor.

"We have," Jounouchi says. "We've got this paperwork. Maybe no one's been here and this information will be worth next to nothing, but we know one thing for certain - if Bakura and Malik were hiding low here, that useless supervisor would know nothing of their illicit activities." Jounouchi pauses, tapping his chin. "You know who we need to talk to? The housekeepers. They'd know which room has bloodstains in it."

Anzu adds, "Or which rooms haven't been cleaned in days."

Mokuba smirk is haunting as he looks around one to make sure no one is watching them. "This file has that, I think. I mean, that idiot wouldn't have known that, but look - this column here shows any notes from housekeeping, like if the room has been trashed or if there's expensive food items bought. I bet if we looked through this, and looked for any inconsistencies, like here -" Mokuba taps the paper "- this room hasn't been cleaned in days. They also bought new clothes. This room had water damage; this one has used every bottle of alcohol in the mini fridge."

"And how is that information useful?" Honda asks.

"Because right here, dated yesterday, room never cleaned, is an example of a room we're looking for." Mokuba points to a small name, one Izai Amane, who meets all the criteria Mokuba's laid out. "Everyone's room's going to be a little bit different, but this room? Never cleaned, checked in without reservation yesterday -"

"That's Bakura's sister's name," Yuugi interrupts. "Amane - that's his little sister."

"It's him then," Mokuba says. "Room 202. Let's go check it out."

The room is empty. The long travel down the hallways, up the stairs, and around the corners of the maze-like hotel lead them to an unoccupied room, not yet cleaned, vacant. Yuugi jiggles the handle, but the door refuses to open. He sighs; it's almost customary that they would get this far only to fail. It's likely Malik's already left with Ryou and Shizuka, regardless of whether or not they went willingly with him.

"We'll need the key," Anzu says. "I can go -"

Jounouchi drowns out her words with a chuckle. "I'll get us in," he says, stepping up to take charge. With Jounouchi's former knowledge in criminal, gang activities, it's no surprise he can break open the hotel door. Jounouchi first toys with the keyhole, but then, upon realising that this is an easy fix, he extracts a credit card from his pocket and sticks it in between the door and the doorframe. A few jiggles of the handle later and the room's door swings open to reveal a dark, unoccupied residence.

The first thing Yuugi smells is the bleach. The smell is overpowering, seeming to come from the bathroom, but because the room appears to have been cleared hours before, the chemical stench has permeated to every inch of the area. They step in with their hands over their mouths and noses to keep the chemicals out of their lungs before each of them takes to searching a different area of the room: Anzu and Honda search the bathroom while Yuugi, Jounouchi, and Mokuba patrol the beds. Despite the smell, the room looks uninhabited: the bed is made, the floors cleaned.

"Why'd he clean before he left?" Honda asks from the bathroom.

Out of the corner of his eye, Yuugi sees Jounouchi shrug. "Dunno. Maybe Malik's hiding something?"

"Like blood?" The concern remains in the words, heavy with fear. Yuugi has seen enough blood to last him for months. The thought of happening across yet another body makes his stomach roll.

"Or it's Bakura's blood, again. Honestly, we're following a blood trail here. You think Bakura would've gone back to the hospital?"

Anzu shakes her head. "It's too busy of a location for someone whose face is on the news as a missing person. I doubt Shizuka-chan, Bakura-kun, or Malik are anywhere where they could be spotted. It looks like they've left already." There is a pause, where Yuugi hears Anzu's breath hitch. When he turns around, it's to see Anzu - the fearless girl that Yuugi knows, the girl who could land a punch on Jounouchi, the girl who always remains optimistic no matter what shit they went through - crying. Her tears are silent as they leak out from under her shaking hands hiding her wet eyes. She manages to take in one breath before she sobs, falling to her knees.

Yuugi doesn't think; he runs to her, wrapping his arms tight around her shoulder and pulling her into the same soul-squeezing hug that Jounouchi has given him during these hard times. Anzu's body shivers against his, hitching with each painful sob; one hand comes down to smother her sobs, but Yuugi catches it in his own and holds on. He's never seen Anzu cry before; at one point, Yuugi thought Anzu would never cry. But she does, everyone does, and Yuugi feels angry at himself for being the reason why his friend is crying.

"It's just not fair!" Anzu cries. "They're gone - they're all gone. Shizuka-chan, Bakura-kun, the other Yuugi - everyone's missing and there's nothing that we seem to do that can save them. Why, Yuugi-kun? Why can't we save everyone? Why can't we be happy? Does anyone deserve this? What did we do wrong to deserve Malik's punishment." Her voice drops to a whisper as her hands tighten on the fabric of his shirt. "It's not right," she continues. "Malik can't do this to us, can't make us hurt in this way because of the wrongs of his ancestors. That's not fair; we don't punish the innocent for how we were wronged. That is wrong! I want to help Malik, I do, I do, but for him to hurt us because of what tragic injury happened to him? That's wrong. Yuugi-kun, that's wrong and we all know it, but why is it still happening?"

"I don't know," Yuugi whispers back. He feel Anzu's sticky tears slip down the side of his neck; the heat makes him shiver. "I don't know what to do."

Anzu sniffles into his shoulder. "I don't ever. Yuugi-kun, we're so lost and there's nothing that seems to be working."

"I know." It's all he does know at this point. All they know is the cold, hard facts: Shizuka and Ryou are missing, Malik is on the loose, Magic Nation comes out on Friday. There isn't much else they can know when every decision they make is based off an assumption - is this what happened? Will this work? Yuugi's done with guessing what's next, what's best, what might work; he's given up on the idea that there's a solution to this dilemma when Malik took away everyone that was precious to him and his friends.

His arms become sore before he thinks to let her go; his body misses the tender warmth, the feeling of someone so close to him that he could feel their heart and glimpse into their mind. Anzu breaks away to wipe at her red eyes and running nose, laughing softly at her dishevelled appearance. Neither Honda nor Jounouchi offer any comments or remarks, perhaps because there is little anyone can say to the situation they've found themselves in. None of them want to tease the other for the surge of sadness rushing through their minds. There has been enough loss this month to last a year.

"I don't think anything is working, but we have to keep optimistic, right? We have to be happy for the others." Anzu smiles at him - a teary, shaky smile that seems more for herself than for them. "We have to stay positive for everyone."

That's right. If they lose hope, who will go to save the others? Who will be the steadfast, emotional support during this time? It's times like these that, once again, Yuugi feels like he's already lost. It's times like these that Yuugi can't see anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to poppy, who cried with me over all the wishshipping subtext ♥


	12. Chapter 12

Seto hears Mokuba come home the moment the boisterous child slams the door closed and calls out, "I'm home!" There's another series of thuds as Mokuba kicks off his shoes and drops his jacket on the floor, and then the rapid tap-tapping of socked feet running across hardwood. When Mokuba rounds the corner, messy hair falling out of a loose ponytail, Seto feels the corners of his lips tug in a small smile. He hadn't been worried that Mokuba wouldn't make it home - he knew his brother would be safe - but that Mokuba would see something he didn't want to while out with Yuugi.

There are no words spoken as Mokuba steps into the office and takes up a chair behind the desk, right next to Seto's. Mokuba's eyes flit across the screen to read the report Seto's spent the morning writing up.

Once he's read the report, Mokuba doesn't wait for Seto to ask him about his day before he dives into his narrative: he describes to Seto the places he, Yuugi, and the others have visited, going into great detail of the conversations and setting around them. Seto has noticed over the years that his brother has taken on quite the artistic flair, and this passion seeps into his vivid storytelling; Mokuba's recounts of his day draw an audience with his powerful voice and engaging stories. Seto hmms and hahs at the story, though nothing catches his attention until Mokuba mentions they've already found the hotel Ryou and Malik were staying at.

"Are you certain?" he asks.

"Do you not trust me?" Mokuba says, and while his tone is playful, Seto can see Mokuba's disappointment in being second-guessed.

"I'm just playing it safe," Seto explains. "I trust you, but I don't want to be following a false trail when a criminal is on the loose. Did you see Malik there?"

Mokuba shakes his head. "No one. They'd already cleared out by the time we got there. Jounouchi thinks Malik might be trying to get out of Domino City, so they're asking you to check out the police to monitor all traffic in and out of Domino, especially towards airports and docks. It's likely that Malik is trying to get away from us."

When Mokuba doesn't continue, Seto stops typing. He cracks his fingers, wrists, and neck before taking a long drink of the cold coffee next to his laptop. "Did you have fun with them today? You looked excited to go."

"As fun as it is to go looking from criminals with your elder brother's classmates. They're all taking things hard; Anzu started crying."

"Hm. They're weak."

"They're losing hope," Mokuba corrects. "If Magic Nation doesn't go as planned, we're out of options for finding Malik. He'll have won."

"That won't hurt us," Seto says. "Business is business; if you're the top company, you can make the most juvenile of mistakes and mindless guests will come back looking for more. That is good business. That is recognising that you've left such a positive impact on people that they're willing to overlook your faults. If Magic Nation is as much of a failure as Battle City, we'll get little more bad media than a television show that's pushed their newest season premiere date back by a few weeks."

Seto doesn't expect Mokuba to comment on that explanation, but his brother is sly. "Then why are you doing this if you you don't care about what it does for you? If this isn't about public image, what's it about?"

It's about getting revenge. It's about reviving his rival and settling the score. It's about breaking Yuugi free of his depression and bringing out in him, in the other Yuugi, the passion and drive he expresses in his dueling. Maybe there are two Yuugis because what Seto sees in the young duelist is not what he saw in Duelist Kingdom atop the castle; the duelist's pride has been stripped away from Mutou Yuugi when he lost the golden artefact to the sea.

In the end, it's about a comeback. Seto doesn't care how the outcome happens, only that his rival returns, in the flesh, for one more monumental duel. It's all Seto wishes, and he'll be damned if he lets the chance slip from his desperate fingers.

In the end, he's desperate for one more duel.

Mokuba doesn't press any further on the topic, so Seto returns to typing up the report. There's a strong chance that Seto will be finishing up both his and Yuugi's parts of the tournament, and while Seto wants to force Yuugi into finishing his work, he doesn't want anything to ruin his chance at seeing his rival once more. If Yuugi is looking for Malik, let him. If it fuels his drive to continue on and his dueling spirit within him, Seto will fund that idea tenfold. Yuugi has been depressed for long enough; it's time for him get back on his feet and continue on, with or without the Puzzle.

The paperwork, however, is manual labour that Seto can't get behind. With the proposals in place and the permits all agreed upon, the basis of the tournament is set. The foundation – the scheduling, guest list, staffing, and equipment – is a half-finished checklist that Seto has completed but Yuugi has not. The invitations have been sent out, both online and through private couriers, and the prizes have been set. There's another check-list, even longer, that outlines the daily scheduling of employees, volunteers, and security for the tournament.

"Can I compete in the tournament?" Mokuba asks.

Seto doesn't stop typing, but he chews on his lip as he thinks. "That," he begins, "is your choice. It's not my job to tell you what to do, but to offer suggestions to help you make a mature decision. And so I'll tell you that no, I see no point in your joining a tournament organised to catch criminals, but by no means will I hold you back until your life's in danger."

Mokuba hides his smirk behind the back of his hand. "That sounds an awful lot like a 'yes'."

Seto doesn't relent. "You're welcome to take my words however you'd like. I'm merely offering an opinion."

Coming around to stand in front of the desk, Mokuba adds, "I'll be fine. It can't be worse than Battle City."

"That's not reassuring."

"I've been through worse."

"Neither is that."

Now Seto is smiling, albeit faintly, and the glow of the computer screen highlights the bags under his eyes. He's been working nonstop to make this tournament a success, and while Mokuba and Yuugi have assisted when they can, ultimately this is Seto's project. He sees himself and his passion reflected in this work, just like Battle City reflected his goals. Yet there's something more to these tournaments – goals, motives, histories – that twists between the dynamics of the duelists registered for the competition. Seto knows that no matter who shows up, the storm will come. They'll be fighting a battle of which no one knows the reasons or outcome.

"I want to save Shizuka," Mokuba tells him, arms braced across the front of the desk, eyes blazing. Seto can see the Kaiba blood burning under his infantile skin. The look in his younger brother's eyes reminds him of the same desire he's seen in his own childhood portraits. As much as Seto has thought he's sheltered Mokuba from the cruel, unforgiving businessworld, it appears collateral damage has been made: Mokuba is as much the relentless white collar as he is.

"Jounouchi's already doing that."

"I want to help, elder brother." There's desperation in his voice.

Seto reaches down into his briefcase leaning against his desk and extracts two files. He pushes them across the desk for Mokuba to examine; his younger brother wastes no time in throwing open the folders and spreading out every paper in the report for him to glance through.

"Case files for Kawai Shizuka and Bakura Ryou. Have a look at them and see what you can find. I'm sure you'll want to be working with Jounouchi Katsuya if you want to find his little sister, but these documents have some pertinent information concerning her recent doctor visits. I've looked over them myself and –”

"She was in the hospital around the same time Bakura was," Mokuba finishes. "They would've seen each other. But ..."

"I got her out. She was in the hospital for one night and one night only; I made sure she left as soon as she could." Seto points at the file of a recent report - medicines missing from the ward. "Yuugi calls Bakura, or whatever they want to believe Bakura is, a thief. You can't help but think that someone, Malik or Bakura or both of them, were at the hospital around the same time as Shizuka."

Seto doesn't miss his brother's raised eyebrows. Yes, he's already done his research. Yes, he has connections. And no, he's not sharing this information with Yuugi. It's keeping them out of the house and looking for their friends. So long as no one is in imminent danger, Seto feels comfortable to leave Yuugi and the others running through Domino looking for Bakura and Shizuka.

"So Bakura went to the hospital, stole medication with Ishtar, kidnapped Shizuka, and left? Do they have camera footage of it?"

"Yes, but it’s nothing significant. Bakura and Shizuka walk out of the hospital together and appear to head towards town. Malik is nowhere in sight."

"Y'know, " Mokuba says, "Jounouchi wasn't happy that you got his sister out."

"I thought she'd be better off away from the doctors," Seto says. "But she look her time leaving, and Bakura was there when she was. It was inevitable."

Mokuba shakes his head. "So you’ve got footage of Bakura and Shizuka. But how does this incident" – he taps the theft report – "relate to the loss of the Puzzle?"

An audible crack of knuckles to signal another thousand words written. "Bakura went after the Puzzle; he has it, in fact. The Coast Guard hasn't found a single piece of that blasted Puzzle, so it's safe to say that it's missing because of something or someone. I've heard Bakura's after it, so it makes sense that he went to collect it. But when would he have had the time to do it?" Seto pushes another set of hospital notes. "He's been to the hospital once before - checked in for an arm wound. He escaped in the late afternoon, so by the time we were all leaving the pier, he would've made his way over there."

"And he found the Puzzle." Mokuba swallows. "Does that mean you're looking for Bakura now?"

Seto doesn't want to be involved with Bakura. If anyone has a messy history of magical abilities and strange occurrences, it's the white-haired kid who seems to attract absurdity. Seto's only met with Bakura on a handful of occasions, yet it's enough to get an idea of the kinds of events that seem to strike this particular individual. It makes perfect sense that of everyone who could get possessed, involved with criminals, and still come off as demure and polite, it would be Bakura. Seto doesn't want to know how involved his classmate is with the criminals who seem to be terrorising Domino City. If Bakura is aiding Ishtar in kidnapping and killing innocents, Seto wants the policed sicced on him.

"I'm keeping tabs on him," is all Seto can say. It's all he can do. Bakura's elusive abilities make him damn impossible to track, nevermind the fact that Yuugi has told him that he'll never be able to tell  _ which _ Bakura he's interacting with. And while Seto doesn't want to believe in split personalities or possession or whatever they are calling what's in those golden items, he cannot deny that something is living in the jewellery worn by Yuugi and Bakura, and those spirits are wrecking havoc in the city.

It's days like these that Seto wishes his mind could return to paper pushing. When did KaibaCorp become involved with the police, with the coast guard, and with magical beings and historic clans and a situation messier than the scandalous royal bloodlines?

He didn't.

Fuck Yuugi and his absurdity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to poppy, who has kindly let me know that she will support any future YGO rewrites after this one (:


	13. Chapter 13

"I don't want to be stuck here all day."

The Spirit thinks Shizuka is spoiled when he hears those words. In his mind, they've kidnapped her, and while Ryou has assured her that they've saved her from danger, it appears that she is as gullible as it gets, for she takes their hospitality as a small favour in the grand scheme of enjoying her time in Domino City.

She is all ready for the day in yesterday's clothes. She's showered and cleaned herself up; Malik's body has been slipped into the closet, so she is still unaware that there are three bodies in the room. No matter - she isn't even aware of the two soul living within the one body. The Spirit had thought perhaps someone would've filled in the young girl about the Millennium Items and the spirits inhabiting the Puzzle and the Ring, yet if she can sense the personality shifts between Ryou and the Spirit, she voices none of her assumptions. If anything, their newest member has become quite comfortable with her situation.

The Spirit has not. From the moment Shizuka woke up, she has asked questions of all varieties - "Are we taking breakfast? Are we going out? Can we go out? What's wrong with you? Do you need to go to the hospital?" Quickly the Spirit has regretted being in control to answer her each and every question, yet Ryou has left him to sleep.

"We might be stuck here for a while," the Spirit explains in his best impersonation of Ryou. He pauses to cough hard into his hand, which comes away flecked with saliva and phlegm. "I'm sorry I'm not the best of hosts. I can't think to go out right now..."

Shizuka relents with a tired smile. "Why'd you run away from the hospital?"

"Same as you: I didn't want Malik-kun to find me."

"But Malik-kun wasn't looking for me, or at least I wasn't aware of it." Shizuka shrugs when the Spirit presses her with a head tilt. "Kaiba-san released me from the hospital a day early."

This interests the Spirit. In the game, he's known that he, Yuugi, and Malik were key players. Having the CEO involved adds a new twist to the plot. For example, the fact that Seto chose to have Shizuka leave early makes the Spirit question whether or not Seto knew Ryou - or Ryou's body, at least - would be at the hospital too. In saying that, the Spirit knows that Seto wouldn't see him as a threat, but if the others are going off the idea that he is working with Malik (highly likely considering both he and Ryou know that the Ishtars are working with Seto and Yuugi) then it means that they believe that he is following Malik's orders. This assumes two things: one, that they believe Malik Ishtar is alive, and two, that he is following the orders of said Malik Ishtar.

Fat chance.

The Spirit is no one's pawn or minion in their master plan. He'll outwit anyone who thinks they can control him.

"We should go out though," Shizuka presses. "Even for a bit. You don't have to come with me."

"I don't think it's the best of ideas though," the Spirit tries to say in Ryou's gentle voice, though he's ready to snap at her for her annoying persistence.

"How do you know Malik will even find us?"

"I want to stay safe," is all the Spirit can think to say as his eyes flit to the closet.

The third time Shizuka asks, he relents, only because Ryou has woken up and offered to take charge of the body. The switch isn't gentle so much as the Spirit throwing forward the body's weight into Ryou's tired arms, so he trips over the carpet and hits the ground on his hands and knees. A barking cough escapes before he can suppress it. Shizuka is at his side before he can stand, and her warm hands on his pale arms guide him back to his feet.

"Sorry, sorry," he says, giving her a gentle smile. "I think we'll be OK for a short walk. Is that good with you?"

"Anything's better than being here."

_What are you doing about the body?_ the Spirit asks. _Are you going to leave it in the room all day, unguarded?_

_I thought you'd already thought of that,_ Ryou snaps back. _We're leaving it here then. Shizuka will get suspicious if she learns that she can't go everywhere in the room; we're lucky she passed out long enough for us to re-hide the body. If we coop her up in this room, she'll only ask more questions. This will give her some normalcy to focus on._

Shizuka doesn't ask less questions when they are outside though. In the muted, morning sunshine, she chats animatedly about her school friends in Osaka, none of whom seem to possess a shred of personality, and she shares with him the wonders of her mundane existence. Ryou smiles and nods along; he takes pleasure in hearing about the normalcy of life - as while he appreciates the supernatural, living as the host of a spirit has its challenges - while the Spirit himself rolls his eyes to each of Shizuka's points.

_There is nothing fun in that,_ he growls. _Who'd want to live like that?_

_Someone who doesn't want to live like this?_ Ryou responds, and it takes great strength not to accompany these biting words with a facial expression. Even though he and the Spirit can communicate telepathically, Ryou knows that he gives away obvious signs that he is not present with everyone. When Shizuka tries to talk to him at the same time as he is trying to listen to the Spirit, he gets caught up in both conversations and ends up unable to respond to either of them.

"Sorry," he apologises with another smile.

"I was saying," Shizuka continues, and she taps at a large poster on the wall, "that we should enter that tournament Kaiba's hosting. I'm sure my big bro's already entered, but I'd love to play too. This one doesn't look too competitive, and I'm sure there's an amateur league or something for new duelists like me. What do you think?"

Ryou hasn't seen this particular advertisement before, but he can spot the KaibaCorp logo from a mile away. In his delirious state, he's missed at least a dozen of the posters in shop windows and on the giant televisions mounted to the sides of buildings, all highlighting an upcoming tournament next weekend at the Domino Mall. Despite it's seemingly informal registration and style, Ryou can spot the thought put into it, especially when the words "God Cards" are written in bold on the prize list.

_God cards?_ his other self says. _Whose supplying Kaiba with god cards?_

_Yuugi, I suppose._

"Bakura-kun?"

He looks up, frozen in shock at missing more of her words. "Sorry?"

"Should we enter?"

"While we're undercover, we probably shouldn't. I bet Malik would think one of us would be there, and if he's looking for the others, he'll be spotting out duelists in key locations like tournaments and game shops."

Shizuka presses on: "But that means my big bro isn't safe. He's going to enter that tournament and get hurt, and I won't stand by to let that happen. He's family." She steps back from him, hazel eyes glowing. "I won't let you keep me away from my family if it means someone will get hurt. I can't do that, even if you are my brother's friend."

_Shit_ _._

Ryou holds a hand out but does not step forward, worried that he might put her at unease. Her body language screams escape, and while he can't let her run away, he is in no fit state to chase her – one dash forward and his lungs will cave in. So Ryou stands still and looks down at his feet, appearing demure before her pride.

"I don't mean to keep you from him. I don't. I just promised your brother I'd keep you safe –”

"I don't need anyone to protect me –”

"–and that means I can't let Malik find you. Everyone is out looking for him right now, but Malik has Ghouls – criminals that'll help him get the dirty work done. I don't want to think what would happen if someone from his gang found us, yet I can't help but worry that none of us are safe. Until Malik is gone and the Ghouls are driven out of the country, we're not safe here. This means we have to stick together."

"But that means I should be with my brother –”

"You can't," Ryou says shortly.

"I'm no safer with you than I am with him."

"You're safer here, away from them, away from what's happening." Ryou stops to muffle a weak cough behind his hand before he continues. "Look, Shizuka-chan, your brother knows how strong you are, and that's why he's kept you away. That's why Seto and Mokuba signed you out of the hospital early – so that you could escape."

"But that doesn't make sense, Bakura-kun. We should stay together. That will keep us safer than ever."

_You're talking in circles,_ his other self explains. _She's not buying a word you're saying and both of you seem to know it. Either you need to come up with a better lie, or you need to think of a way for her to trust you fast. She's gonna bolt on you if you don't find a way to explain yourself that doesn't seem suspicious._

_That's brash coming from someone who can hardly remember his own plans. At least I plan ahead._

Folding his hands together in front of him Ryou attempts a gentle position. He can lie to her; she’ll believe it.

"Shizuka-chan, your mother's dead. That's why you can't go back to anyone – because there is no one for you to go back to. Eh, I don't know how else to say this to you, and I'm sorry if that came off as harsh, but ..." He trails off as he sees the tears in her eyes – real tears, dripping down her porcelain cheeks and wetting her cotton shirt. She doesn't make a sound except to sniff into the back of her hand, but her expression says it all. She is crushed. She is lost; her body has no way of responding to the agony she feels.

_Now that's a lie I can get behind,_ his other quips. His grin is audible.

_It's the only thing I can think to say to her that won't get her to run to her brother. Jounouchi-kun doesn't have a strong relationship with his mother, and I doubt Shizuka's the type to pressure her brother into forgiving his mother now that she's 'dead'._

_How're you gonna keep that lie up?_ The hidden question lies underneath, _Will you kill her?_

Ryou doesn't think his hands could take life, but when he thinks back to the times someone has wronged him and he's taken revenge, he notes that he is particularly greedy with what he wants. If he wanted it, perhaps he would take a life to achieve it. He doesn't know Kawai-san, yet from Jounouchi's vulgar descriptions of her over lunchtime conversations, she is quite the specimen: a hypocritical, greedy woman who left her oldest child with his abusive father so that she could run away with her daughter and make a better life for at least one of her children. Ryou's never heard the whole story before, but even through Shizuka's recounts of her mundane life, Ryou gets the feeling that Kawai-san's harshness controls Shizuka's life much in the same way a game master controls the environment of a campaign.

Shizuka has yet to say a word as she tries to still her falling tears. They have stopped walking along a quiet boulevard; while there are people staring at the girl as she cries, Ryou doubts they're drawing much attention to themselves. He offers for her to take a seat and hands her a handkerchief from his pocket. She takes it but crunches it in her fists and lets the tears run rivers down her face.

"I'm very sorry for your loss, Shizuka-chan," he says. "I know you were living with her. She must've meant a lot to you."

"She didn't."

Ryou nods. That he didn't expect, but Shizuka shows no signs in elaborating.

"Is there anywhere you'd like to go?"

"I want to see my big bro," she says. "I want to see my big bro Katsuya, and I don't care if that's selfish or wrong, but – but I can't. What do I say to him?" She sobs harder into her hands, muffling her cries. Ryou shifts from foot to foot, hands in his pockets, and waits for her to stop before he dares question her again.

She's grieving. She doesn’t lift her head or wipe her eyes; expression glazed, she stares at her knees. Ryou doesn’t push her. It appears he’s rendered her shellshocked now, and the grief seems to be settling in her weary, pained mind.

Ryou remembers the stages of grief well, as if they are appointment reminders scribbled in ink on the palm of his hands. He remembers the tears that fell when he first learned of Amane's death. He cried long and hard; he cried until he thought there wouldn't be any tears left in him, but the human body has a fast production of grief and agony, so he sobbed for what felt like days before he gave into his raw throat and swollen eyes. He remembers that he cried even before he saw her corpse, broken twice across her neck and spine, and then again when he saw her all patched up like a doll in a casket.

He remembers the denial next. He remembers falling asleep to thinking that she was still with him, still sleeping next to him in bed because he was never too old to want to sleep alone. He remembers fixing her up breakfast because he was damn certain she'd come downstairs in all her bed-headed, sleepy-eyed glory, and then tossing out the food because he didn't think himself worthy to eat the meals made for her. He remembers setting aside time to be with her before he remembered that she wouldn't be with him for that time, that each ghostly caress wasn't his sister's gentle hands on his.

He wrote to her during that time. He wrote letters longer than any he'd ever received from girls in his class, and these weren't sappy love letters - these were poems, stories, and drabbles; recounts of the good and bad days that she was missing with him. He told her about his friends and family as if she would care to know about the family that didn't seem to grieve like he did. He wrote to her about everything and anything, even if it might not seem like she would care about his menial lifestyle, because she seemed to be the only one who wanted to listen to anything he had to say.

When he realised that she'd never reply to his letters, he tried to tear them up. He blamed her for her own death, for thinking that she could cross the street without worrying about whether the drunk idiot in the delivery truck would stop at the light. He blamed her for not being strong enough to hold herself together when she broke because each night he broke, sometimes in the same places as her, and he put himself together like a marionette with new strings. She was weak and he was not, and the others, well, they were weak too. They were weak for coddling him. They were weak for making parties of "one week" and "one month". They reminded him of every major milestone that said, _She is no longer with you._

The letters stayed that time as a haunting reminder of his greediness. They stayed as 'what ifs' floating in his pained mind that told him that if he had been there, she would be saved; if he had held her hand, he could've pulled her back; if he'd been better to her, none of that would've happened.

But it happened and it stayed.

Shizuka stays too. She stays sitting for hours, not days, and instead of months of different feelings and emotions rooting her in guilt, anger, grief, depression, and acceptance, she tests each one for little more than a second. She's not loud like someone people are when they are upset; she broods, a quiet and moody feeling flitting across her pinched eyebrows and puffy eyes.

Ryou doesn't initiate contact until she holds out her hand like a pitiful offering of comfort, and he takes it to pull her to her feet. She appears smaller as she hunches forward to hide her sorrow, and Ryou slips off his jacket to set it around her quivering shoulders. There's an aching hole in his heart from seeing himself – his ten year old self – reflected in this girl, but the greediness never leaves. Shizuka doesn't argue with him when he takes her back to the hotel through the side-streets and past the little shops that had seemed inviting on the way to town. Now they seem menacing, ready to strip one of them from their flesh and pull them into their grasp.

_Do you ever get the feeling this is a bad idea?_ Ryou asks his other self. He doesn't have to worry about listening to Shizuka: she's been mute since they started the walk home.

_I don't get bad ideas,_ the Spirit points out.

_Very funny,_ Ryou snaps. He jiggles the lock to the hotel room open with one hand while the other is trapped in Shizuka's grasp. She seems to think he is a lifeline grounding her in painful reality, and while it's clear that she is wise and does not trust everyone, catching onto his lie has turned her into a gullible mess. It's as if she'll believe everything he tells her now.

He considers telling her about Malik – right then and there, drop the bomb that one more person she knows is dead. It wouldn't help matters in any way other than to get the elephant out of the room, and it wouldn't be hard considering it's the actual truth, yet Ryou holds his tongue under his sharp teeth and waits for the girl to go anywhere. She doesn't; she stands at the doorway, still holding his hand, still crying, still silent.

"I'm going to make you some tea, OK? That might help." He leads her to the foot of the bed and lets her sit on the edge, short legs dangling off the side. Her shoulder quake with each sob that she doesn't dare hold back. Ryou doesn't see Amane in Shizuka when she's crying; Amane never cried, never showed anything other than unabashed happiness or self-assured confidence. She was raw energy in its purest, virgin form. But Shizuka? She is the light fading from the tunnel, chased out by the oppressive shadows that crush her hope of seeing anyone ever again. At this time, Ryou does feel sorry for her, but he can't bring himself to apologise for what he's done. He needed to do it; they needed to do it. The sacrifice, the lie – it ensures that she doesn't leave him until he's ready.

When the water finishes boiling, Ryou pours the liquid over the dry tea leaves, then steeps the tea for no more than a minute. Shizuka doesn't take the tea cup when he offers it to her, but she seems to appreciate the gesture, if her sorrowful smile is anything to go by. She lets her tearstained hands rest on the bed as she tries to come to grips with herself.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I didn't mean to – I just couldn't –”

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he tells her. "You needn't apologise to me."

"How do you know this?" she asks. The handkerchief he'd given her before they left the park is still held in her hand, and she now uses it to dab at her wet eyes and running nose. "I'm sorry I'm feeling sad, but just - what happened?"

Ryou swallows. Time to tell the rest of the lie – the one that's been running in his head ever since he first lied.

"The Ghouls took her. There is another me, called the Spirit of the Millennium Ring, who was working with Malik, and he knew of their plans. The Spirit can take control at times of conflict, but he’s gone right now. My other self told me though that Malik was getting back at the others for what they did, and he went after those closest to Yuugi and the others, but ... the Spirit doesn't say much about what went down, but Malik's lashing out at those around him. He's taken at least a dozen lives of both Ghouls and civilians; there's probably some method to his madness, but gosh if I know." He shouldn't laugh, but it still happens - a teetering giggle that ends in a dry cough painful enough to make his own ribs vibrate. He chugs his scalding tea just to keep himself from hacking up a lung.

"But you know," he continues, "Malik must think himself pretty weak if the closest person he could think of to go after is your mother. I don't want to intrude, but back at the park you sounded like there was something between you and your mother, and obviously Malik didn't know about that because he thought he would hurt you most by going after your family, yet ... I can't help but think that's the cheater's way out. Jounouchi-kun is who is most important to you, right? He's your closest family.

"That's not to say that Malik-kun should've gone after Jounouchi-kun - no, I wouldn't wish that on anyone - but that Malik-kun chose the easy way. He didn't take what was most important from you because he couldn't - Jounouchi's stronger than that. I'm so sorry for the loss of your mother; there's no greater pain than to lose what is closest to you. And yet, you're still here, Jounuouchi-kun is still here. Malik can't take everything from you. He could barely take a life of his own; I bet it was a Ghoul, one Malik still values, that took her life.

"Shizuka-chan, you're really brave for staying strong during this. I promise we'll see your brother again. I do promise. Jounouchi-kun always jokes about showing what can't be shown, and, well, when we see him again, you can show him what he couldn't see before: your love."

_Poetic,_ the Spirit jokes. Ryou hadn't felt him in his mind until he spoke, but now he can feel the Spirit's cold soul pressing against his mind. It's like chewing ice even when you know the sensation will give your a brainfreeze and sore teeth.

_She believed it,_ Ryou replies. _For now, at least. Kaiba-kun hasn't broadcasted any of the deaths at the hands of the Ghouls - except our own disappearances; I saw those on the digital billboards today - because he's trying to keep this scandal on the down-low, yet it's only a matter of time before he reveals to the press the crimes Malik Ishtar and the Ghouls have committed. Once that happens, we'll have a real mess on our hands, and I can't think of any way to respond._

_You don't have to. By that point, it'll be a whole another mess. Something else will have happened – we might not even be in Domino anymore –_

_You're thinking of leaving?_ Ryou snaps.

_Will you let me finish? I was going to say that anything could happen. That's the thing about plans, landlord: they need to change. They need to be fluid, not static, and they need to move with the pace of the players. When you write up a campaign, do you write one, stiff storyline, or do you leave certain areas grey, certain quests hanging, all to let the plot unfold? It's the same with plans. If we planned everything from the get-go, nothing would work because all the points we'd need - A, B, C, and the entire fucking Greek alphabet - would never match up. We'd be royally screwed because we planned too hard._

_Is that what you tell yourself when you procrastinate?_ Ryou deadpans. _'I don't need plans because they'll never work out.'_

Ryou has never heard his other self get flustered, but gosh do the Spirit's next words come out in an angered, messy rush: _If I made plans for every step of my life, I'd have screwed up years ago. You - you roll with the punches and all that! You need to be fluid in your goals or you're just setting yourself up for failure._

_Now you sound like an overly supportive parent._

The Spirit says nothing in return. Ryou can feel him brooding at the corner of his mind. He doesn't leave, but he refuses to acknowledge any of the messages Ryou sends to him.

The Spirit doesn't stay silent for long. He creeps back moments later, a frigid darkness like a tumour in Ryou's mind, and mutters, _You know, we won't be able to stay here long._

_How come?_ Ryou says.

_Eventually, someone's going to find out about the body. The Ghouls aren't attacking anyone anymore because they're not under Ishtar’s orders, which means that the death count is going to peter away, which means the police are going to start investigating why the deaths stopped happening. They'll find Malik's body._

_And what are you suggesting?_ Ryou asks.

_We need to ditch the body._

Ryou scoffs. _They'll find us. I'm sure Kaiba-kun and Yuugi-kun already have put together the pieces to know that you were working with Malik-kun. That puts us as the number one suspect for his death, which, mind you, would make a lot of sense considering we've also been missing ever since Malik-kun disappeared. We don't need to 'ditch the body;' – we need to find a way that makes Malik's death not look like our fault._

A pause. _So you want to stage a murder?_

_Exactly. I'm sure you're familiar with that._

_I never get caught,_ his other half snaps.

It's a good thing Shizuka is still shellshocked from their previous conversation because if not she'd be staring at him and his expressions, ready to sign him into the nearest mental health facility. Ryou knows that he could talk to himself with a passive face, but communicating with the Spirit requires a precise combination of wit and sarcasm that is impossible without lip-biting, hand-clenching, and eye-rolling gestures. The Spirit may be the surviving darkness from 3,000 years ago, but when he argues he acts like a toddler who's just been told to wait.

_They'll catch us if we move the body. No one's stupid in this game except those who let their guards down._

_You're planning too far ahead,_ his other self teases. _What did I tell you about that?_

_If we're not careful, we'll end up facing charges in the real world, not through a game of M &W. The police aren't going to give us a slap on the wrist for homicide; this is far worse _.

_I know._

Ryou groans. _Well you're not acting very mature about all this. If we get caught, I'll lose the Ring, and you'll lose me._

That particular threat raises the other's hackles. The Spirit growls deep in this throat and nestles tight in Ryou's mind, as if to assure both of them that he's going nowhere until his mission is complete. Ryou already knew this particular conversation would have that effect, so he settles back with a satisfied smirk.

The Spirit is not one to give in though. Moments later, he's pressing up against Ryou's mind again with more questions: _So how are you going to move the body?_ he jabs, petty remarks oozing out of his pale lips that feel as if they are pressed against Ryou's ear. Maybe they are. Shizuka is a ghost of herself, so Ryou doubts she would notice if the Spirit took a corporeal form just to mock Ryou for his well-planned ideas.

The joke's on him: if things had gone his way, they'd still be trying to drag Malik's body to a safehouse.

Ryou hasn't thought about this. In his current, weakened state he can barely manage to get out the door without hacking up a lung, yet he supposes that if he got the body into the hotel, he should therefore be able to get in back out. Plus the Spirit will help him; he won't admit it now because they are arguing, but Ryou already knows that the Spirit will be of assistance. He has to help him. His other self already knows what's at stake should they fail, so he'll take whatever steps are necessary to ensure that Ryou's body is safe. Their relationship is built upon that forced trust: they have to work together to achieve their own goals.

_What about Shizuka-chan?_ Ryou asks. _We've got her stuck with us so long as the Malik drama is happening. Are we taking her with us when we move the body?_

_She's doesn't have to know anything about that,_ the Spirit says. _We'll knock her out for that time._

_I'd rather you didn't do that,_ Ryou tells him, even though he knows it's safe and will protect themselves. Shizuka can't know they've already taken life, especially when it's the life of someone who everyone in Domino City seems to be looking for.

_It's harmless._

As if that excuses taking someone's soul. _No. I won't allow it – you can't take my friends' souls away as if they are replaceable. They aren't._

One long-suffering sigh. _Then what do you propose we do?_

_We do it while she's sleeping._

_And risk having her escape?_

Ryou shrugs. He doesn't think she'll run away even if he goes. He's frightened her into believing that the only way she can keep herself and her brother alive is by hiding from Malik; she won't leave the hotel room unless then convinces her that she will be OK. It's a sickening thought that makes his stomach turn - that, like the Spirit, he's manipulated someone's thoughts and emotions enough to earn her trust when he has no right to - but Ryou knows this is what it takes to keep her safe. If she was Amane, he may not have lied to her (because Amane would see through any mask he put on and she wouldn't believe a word that came out of his or the Spirit's mouth) but he would do anything to keep her safe.

Shizuka is no different. He'll protect her with every fiber of his being because she deserves to keep living; she deserves to see her brother many more times, and he'll be damned if he lets anyone hurt her.

"Are you hungry?" he asks her. When she doesn't respond, he lightly touches her shoulder, nearly shocks her soul right out of her tense body, and repeats the question.

"Not really," she says, but Ryou can spot the lie in it. It was night when they found each other at the hospital, and now it's evening time and Ryou knows for a fact that he hasn't eaten even before that. His body, however, can tolerate starvation and exhaustion; with both him and the Spirit sharing energy, there are power reserves that keep him functioning far longer than any normal human should. Shizuka is human though, and her pallor and exhaustion are clear signs that she needs food and sleep.

"I'm going to see what's in the vending machines downstairs," he tells her. "I'll be right back."

When he steps up to his feet, a wave of dizziness knocks him to the wall, and the small trip down the stairs to the lobby to get chips and coffee leaves him gasping for breath. His wheezing seems to frighten her when he holds onto the wall and coughs for minutes into his hand, unable to do anything else, and inside of him, the Spirit's and his souls smash together like balls shaking in a jar. Distantly, Ryou wonders if Shizuka can see the Spirit, either through Ryou's body or when the Spirit accidentally takes a physical form, but she never says anything when he straightens up, clears his throat, and makes off to the bathroom to clean his hands before he gives her the snacks.

Neither of them seem hungry with the food in their laps, yet Shizuka does munch on the chips, albeit with lackluster enthusiasm.

_We should move the body tonight,_ the Spirit tells him.

_Go for it,_ is all Ryou has to say. Let the Spirit be his guest in dragging the body back to the pier, where there will no doubt be police investigating the crime scene. Surely someone will have found the location of Malik's boat already, so it's only a matter of time before Malik's plans are uncovered too.

"Thank you." The words slip out, and Ryou doesn't suspect them to come from Shizuka until he realises they couldn't have come from anyone else.

"You're welcome," he replies, though he's not sure what she's thankful for, or how she can even be thankful to him when he's manipulated her fragile mind to ensure she doesn't interfere with his plans. He's hurt her in a way that she'll never know, but it's for the best. She'll be safe this way, they'll all survive, and Ryou will solve the dilemma. He wants to. He has to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to poppy, whose support has helped me through this difficult week ♥


	14. Chapter 14

There's a letter on his desk on Wednesday morning that makes Seto's stomach churn even when he hasn't taken a sip of his coffee - cheap because he refuses to pay more than he needs to, and doused in cream because he can't take it straight - because the lettering embossing the front is too precise to be from anyone other than her. Seto can already imagine her slipping into his office like an ethereal spirit, placing her offering upon his oak desk amongst the paperwork he refused to organise when he left the office two hours later than he should have.

His curiosity gets the best of him before he can consider throwing the paper through the shredder. His fingers tear at the sides with frantic movements until he yanks free one sheet of paper upon which is inscribed a letter.

To him.

Seto rolls his eyes.

_Dear Kaiba Seto-san_ , it begins,

_It it with great pleasure that I propose to you a way to promote your newest tournament, Magic Nation. I understand that you wish for my brother to participate, and hope that in doing so you will be able to bring him back to us. Because of this, I am offering to your several resources that will be useful in inviting him to the tournament. I cannot write such information in a public letter, so please meet with me so we can discuss further strategies._

_Thank you._

_Sincerely,_

_Ishizu Ishtar._

Now Seto can throw the paper in the shredder, or maybe he'll file it away in a random drawer to find years later. He'll still remember the stupidity he felt towards Ishizu who dared to bargain with him. He bargained with her - and how did she treat him? She teased him. She spouted lies about destiny and dueling and promised him that Battle City would bring all his wishes together. No, Battle City was the moment where his dreams plunged into the ocean with his rival's Puzzle, the Item that seemed to contain said rival's strength and energy.

It's pathetic to be mad at someone who should have little more than indirect influence over you, yet Seto does hide the paper somewhere - under ten file folders labelled "duelists" - before he stalks out of his office. The Ishtars are still living in one of the empty wings even though he could pay for a hotel for them. Seto doesn't trust anyone's security but his own, especially considering that Ishizu is as elusive as an eel and her brother could break out of an iron fortress if he had the will.

It's pathetic that he goes after her even when he should be scheduling meetings with businesses willing to sponsor Magic Nation, with companies willing to provide security, food, transportation, and other services to the tournament, and everyone else in between who is trying to make this work. Mokuba has been pulling overtime hours at work by coming directly from elementary school just to ensure that everything is ready for the tournament in one week. They have but one week to throw this together, and it's only now that Ishizu bothers to offer her support.

Seto calms himself enough to knock politely at her door at the end of the hallway. This wing hasn't been used in months; thus, it provides an ideal setting to hide away the illegal immigrants until they return to their home. It isn't the best of accommodations - after all, it's a meeting room, not a hotel - but the Ishtars have yet to criticise him for the living arrangements, so Seto never offers anything better.

It's a solid minute before Ishizu opens the door. She looks far more casual in a beige pantsuit accented by striking blue, lapis lazuli jewellery. What startles Seto most is how human she appears without her goddess-like garb; she has a slight lean to her posture that he'd missed under the folds of her dress, which is now obvious with her hip cocked under the tight dress pants.

"Yes?" she says. No hello, no good morning. Seto's not giving her formalities either, so he appreciates someone who can get down to business without feeling the need to exchange polite but useless greetings.

"You left a letter on my desk - signed, so I know it was you." Even if she hadn't, Seto wouldn't have thought of anyone else but Miss Ishtar.

She smiles, a slow, sly grin that highlights the high rises of her cheeks, the caramel skin that glows in the soft sunlight streaming through the large windows. "Come on in," she says, as if she owns this room and she's inviting Seto into her space. It's not hers; she's an uninvited but necessary guest.

Seto hadn't been involved with the Ishtars’ lodging. At the time the first murders had occurred, Mokuba had been begging him to help with his summer school work, and there'd been about ten other things on his to-do list – that are still on his to-do list – that he hadn't bothered with where the Ishtars were staying. He'd entrusted the task to a young male secretary. As Seto steps into the room, he first notices that this particular employee took his job seriously, as if his boss would be coming by later to inspect his handiwork with a critical eye. Seto barely has time to make dinner each night; he'd have no time to check up on anything. Nonetheless, Seto can appreciate the creativity of the room: the long desk has been removed from the room to make space for a cosy pair of chairs and a small coffee table. The bookcases have stayed but are turned to offer a slight divider to the bed, which Seto can only see jutting out behind the oak shelves. The little accents in the room, from the paintings to the carpets, remain, and in the strangest of ways they make the room seem homier.

Ishizu leads him to the table and chairs and settles down across from him. Seto notes that she is closest to the door, meaning if he tries to escape, he'll need to bypass her. He'll also need to pass Rishid who hasn't made himself known, but Seto can spot him sitting by the wall with an open book. He shouldn't come off as intimidating, but Seto finds himself feeling just as anxious by the quaint man reading as he does by the icy woman staring him down across the table.

"How can I help you, Kaiba Seto?"

"Just Kaiba," he tells her, "and I think you are the one helping me. That is what the letter said, unless you weren't aware of what you wrote."

Ishizu sighs. "Yes, I can help you, but it would be best if I knew what exactly you're looking for. I'm told you have a lot on your plate, and while I have information, I don't what would be relevant to your situation."

Already Seto can see that he's entered into a game of wits. Ishizu's calculating glances aren't like those of fellow rivals sizing each other up across the playing field; Ishizu's eyes are dissecting his mind. She must already have known what he needs and wants, or else she wouldn't have sent the letter in the first place. But here she is, in the flesh, analysing his mind like every other scientist and professor has tried to do.

Seto engages her: "I'm told you can help with the tournament. I can't say I need more incompetent hands on deck, but if you have anything regarding your brother or Bakura Ryou, that might be helpful in tailoring the tournament to the mission."

"You want to capture my brother?"

"In a way. I want the invitation to catch his interest. I want him to believe that this tournament was made for him."

"You'll need more than one god card then. Malik believes that he who holds all three god cards will be the Pharaoh, but that means that he must take them from the previous Pharaoh. It doesn't matter who has them now, but I know that Malik will do anything to get those cards. You have both of them, don't you?"

"I have the one you gave to me," Seto answers. "Yuugi has the other one."

Ishizu makes a small sound in the back of her throat; Seto assumes she hadn't known how involved Yuugi was in that particular aspect of the tournament.

"You'll need to ask Mutou Yuugi for his then. I suppose you could offer them both to the first place duelist, thus ensuring that Malik comes to the tournament."

Seto shrugs. "And what about Bakura Ryou? No, I'll split the cards between first and second place. That way both of them will enter the tournament determined to win, and it doesn't matter who wins because both of them will be caught."

It's a solid plan, but across the table Ishizu still seems wary of it. "And what if one of them doesn't enter? Are you certain Bakura Ryou will go for the god cards?"

"You tell me," Seto says, and he cringes at how informal his words sound. "I don't know what Bakura's role is in this, but if he's working with your brother, then I assume his goals must be similar. If not, we'll find something else to offer him - money, cards, et cetera."

From around the corner, Rishid appears. Seto had known he was in the room, but the entrance of the tall man makes Seto's blood run cold. Rishid's entire posture screams danger, and while Seto wants to think the man is harmless, he tries not to forget that this man is a Ghoul. He must've killed before, and he reports to Malik. Both those statements make for a dire feeling in Seto, who knows that none of his strongest men can best Rishid in combat.

"Bakura is after the Millennium Items," Rishid explains.

"Then the Puzzle?" Seto says.

"The Rod and Torque, too," Rishid says. "He's after all of them, I believe."

"And we have these?"

Ishizu leans forward to catch Seto's gaze: "Yuugi has the Torque."

"I'll get it back from him," Seto says. "Is there anything else you can see attracting your brother?"

Ishizu shrugs. Before she can ramble further, Seto makes his leave with a short, "Goodbye, Miss Ishtar," that is cut off from the slamming of the office-turned-bedroom door. Once outside, Seto takes the largest gulp of air he can. It isn't that Ishizu is difficult or intimidating, but if she stopped giving him stoic expression, Seto would be able to tell how she was really feeling. He can't get a feel for her because she's an enigma of emotions hidden under a gentle guise.

There's the same stack of paperwork waiting for him upon his return; Seto gives it a scrutinous glare before he pushes it aside to focus on Ishizu's work. He picks up his mobile to telephone Yuugi, yet the loud voice that blasts through the speaker isn't who he expects.

"Hey," says Jounouchi, and wow can he make one word ring Seto's eardrums.

"I want to speak to Yuugi," Seto demands.

Jounouchi hangs up on him.

Wonderful.

Seto sets down his mobile, waits five seconds, and then calls the Kame Game Shop. This time someone else picks up – Anzu, to his recollection, and while she doesn't sound pissed at him, the moment she realises it's him her suspicion rises.

"What do you need?" she asks. From the background, Seto can hear Jounouchi shouting curses and demanding to be on the phone even when he was the one who hung up on Seto. There's a small argument between Anzu and Jounouchi as they fight over who can speak. Seto considers hanging up right then and there since it's clear there is a lot going on in the Mutou household, but then Anzu says something loud and clear into the phone: "Can I help you, Kaiba?"

"I need to speak with Yuugi."

Anzu can't seem to listen to him either. "Wait, why are you calling from this number? Is this your mobile?"

Seto sighs, a sound that catches through the receiver. "Where is Yuugi? I don't have time to chat, Mazaki. I have more important matters right now."

"He's out."

"Where?"

Anzu doesn't miss a beat: "Does it matter to you?"

"Yes, now put him on the line."

This time there's a pause, no more than a couple seconds, but enough that Seto can feel a vein in his neck ready to pop. Talking with Jounouchi is already a recipe for a headache (and thank goodness Jounouchi himself spared him from that), but Anzu's roundabout conversations are as tedious as it gets. There's been enough stupidity and pointlessly witty conversations for one day – the list does not need to continue. Time seems to slow as Anzu contemplates her response; his blood is now boiling.

"He's out."

Seto doesn't have anything to say to that. It's pointless, anyway. Could he have gotten this information from Jounouchi? Not in his current state. But now Anzu's words roll in his mind, and what slips off his tongue is not a word but a choked sound. He hangs up and lets the phone drop from his grip onto the polished wood of his desk, where it hits twice before bouncing onto the floor. Seto doesn't bother to retrieve it. There is enough madness running through his head that Seto doesn't care about his mobile or anyone else contacting him tonight. Mokuba will come from school any minute and ask what he still needs to do, and in all honestly, they need to do everything. If Yuugi's missing, it means he's not working on the tournament, which means he is unreliable and Seto will need to pick up the extra projects. It's not as if he's never been in this painful, anxiety-inducing boat before, but that Yuugi has put him here.

Anzu never calls him back, which Seto assumes to mean that she knew that it was him who hung up on her and not an accidental disconnect. Seto doesn't bother to call anyone else for the rest of the night. When Mokuba comes in, drops his backpack down on the ground and nearly brings his body down with it, Seto is over whatever happened on the phone. He fills Mokuba in on who he's spoken to early today, and Mokuba tells him about his day at school.

"You think two card cards will entice Malik without creating a rivalry between him and Bakura?" Mokuba asks as he sits himself on the corner of his brother's desk, half a sandwich in his hands.

Seto muses over it before answering. "No, I wouldn't think so. If there is any arguing about who gets what god card, it will be for naught - it's not like either of them are actually getting the prizes. It's all a ploy to catch them."

Mokuba nods in agreement, yet a moment later he's frowning again and scratching at his tangled, black hair. "Do you think they'll fall for the trap?"

"I don't see any reason for them to be suspicious of me. Of Miss Ishtar, yes, but neither of them know me to be someone interested in the Items."

"Then we're getting the Item?"

"The one Ishizu has is with Yuugi - we'll pick it up tomorrow."

On the side of Seto's desk, underneath the duelist files and Ishizu's letter and permits and reports, is the proposed layout for Magic Nation. It's copied right out of the schedule for Battle City and condensed to accommodate for fewer duelists and shorter duels, meaning it took him little to no effort to throw this together. Mokuba takes a glance at it and points.

"Can I sign up?"

"I don't see the point," Seto admits. "It's hardly a tournament."

"I want to duel with you."

"I'm not dueling."

Mokuba shrugs. "I want to duel in your tournament," he reiterates.

"I'd rather you didn't." Seto can think of a dozen reasons why, but mostly he thinks of what would happen if Mokuba had to duel against Malik, or Bakura, or a Ghoul that might sneak their way into the attendance too. This tournament is already a dangerous trap, but having Mokuba compete raises the stakes. If the deaths of the Ghouls are anything to go off of, Malik - and maybe even Bakura - will do anything to ensure their victory, and Seto doesn't want to see his brother dueling against gang leaders whose drives reflect his own violent passions. Seto knows he's ruthless, yet he won't let his brother be caught in the crossfire. He's already risking enough without throwing his brother into the lion pit.

Mokuba never asks why. He kicks his feet against the side of Seto's desk, and when Seto rubs at his eyes, Mokuba stops and begins to organise the papers. Seto can't see any method to Mokuba's organisation - in fact, it looks an awful lot like his younger brother is putting all the papers together for Seto to never find again - but when all the documents are put away in one large, intimidating pile, Mokuba says, "OK, time to go. All your work is put away."

It's then Seto understands.

"Fine," he concedes. With the muted sunlight still glowing through the floor-to-ceiling walls, Seto can't believe it's nighttime, but not only is it past regular working hours, it's well into the night and neither of them has thought about dinner or bedtime or tomorrow. Seto stretches his neck and back, hearing the cracks in his spine from hours of uncomfortable sitting. Mokuba grabs his brother's briefcase, and with an impish smile, spins on his heels, throwing his arms outwards to swing the metal luggage around.

"I'm glad I locked it before you did that," is all Seto can say. Mokuba follows him out into the hallway, and then down the elevator into the lobby. The automatic lights click on as they pass through the building; without the business of employees, the otherwise hectic environment is calming to Seto. He can walk and not be assaulted by at least a half-dozen questions which could all be asked to someone else, although he always seems to be that 'someone else' - that person with the answers to everything. He never has the answers, but where there's a will, there's a way, and Seto strives to try his best to succeed. Success without failure has always been his motto; it won't change because his employees fail to know how to save their work in the correct folder.

The workload seems to beckon him back even when he climbs into the back of a limo with Mokuba in tow. His chauffeur looks tired, as if he'd been woken from his sleep to pick up the siblings from their late night at the office, but naught a word is spoken under the dazzling stars shining down on the vehicle. Mokuba's head lolls to the side, falling into Seto's arm, and neither of them bother to move. When Mokuba is asleep, Seto brings his arm around to hold his brother close. There's something 'wrong' with affection in Seto's mind - years of Gozaburo's strict reign over Seto's childhood has taught him to view love as sacrilegious.

Admittedly, there are several points Seto remembers his adopted father drilling into his mind. None of them are pleasant, yet Seto muses that while he wouldn't say he's preaching what Gozaburo taught him, there's a particular theme to his being that speaks to the strict Kaiba regime. There's the motivation and passion, ever flaming, that burns in him to do everything harder, better, faster, stronger, until it sets him ablaze in a tempest of anger, hatred, and disgust. There's the indifference of crime and casualties, like humanity is but a game piece he can dispose of should he choose to.

Mokuba never learned from that. Mokuba remained pure, untouched, uncontaminated. Seto brushes his brother's hair from his eyes and sees how Mokuba sleeps peacefully at his side. It's been that way for years: Mokuba at his side, the light that never fades.

* * *

 Yuugi doesn't think Seto has ever come to his house before. Ever. They've had a half-dozen video calls over the past week, and he's met Seto in public venues - or at least spotted him dozens of feet away, flanked by some personal bodyguards - but never has Seto come directly to him. The CEO seems much more intimidating on Yuugi's doorstep, staring down his nose to where Yuugi stands, still in yesterday's wrinkled clothes because he forgot to change before he passed out on the couch. Yuugi doesn't know what to say to this unexpected meeting, so he does just that - say nothing. He looks at Seto and waits for a reply.

No words are forthcoming for over a minute before Yuugi clears his throat. "Good morning, Kaiba-kun," he says, forcing a warm smile on his face. "How are you?"

"I need your god cards."

Yuugi's eyes widen - that escalated. Instinctively, his hands go to his deck case on his hip and he covers the little leather pouch. Seto can't have them, Yuugi thinks. What does he want with them? Doesn't he already have one too?

"Yuugi, who's – oh, hi. Kaiba." Yuugi looks over his shoulder. It's Anzu. She is, in fact, in her summer pyjamas, and her short hair is loosely tied up in a high ponytail that keeps only half of her hair out of her tired eyes. She looks from him to Kaiba, and then from Kaiba to him with a mixture of confusion. Yuugi wants to reassure that nothing has happened or is happening between him and his rival, but Seto chooses to break in.

"Do you still have it?" Seto asks.

"Have what?" Anzu asks, crossing her arms over her chest. Half-awake and she is still the protective mother to him. Yuugi has to appreciate her kindness.

"The god cards."

"Yes," says Yuugi.

"They're his," Anzu adds, and while Yuugi wants to think it's meant to be an afterthought, Anzu's words come out as a defensive remark. Yuugi remembers what Seto did to his cards years ago, and he won't give up the god card to Seto and fall for the same mistake twice, but the way Seto flinches at their words, the way his balled fists shake and his face twitches, makes Yuugi think that maybe there's something they're missing from this.

"What do you need it for?" Yuugi asks; his voice peters out when Seto's expression only morphs to a lethal glare.

"For the tournament. Do you expect Malik and Bakura to simply enter on their own free will, no bait? They're not going to enter unless we make them enter, and to do that we need some leverage."

"I don't think you should trust Malik with anything important. He's not above destroying hopes."

Yuugi looks down at his feet while his hand comes up to feel the empty space around his neck. It's not there, but he's been reaching for it lately, as if the Puzzle will appear if he imagines it enough. Sometimes it even feels like it's hanging there, a heavy weight matching the insufferable guilt in his heart, but no matter how much he dreams of the Puzzle, feels its ghostly corners and ridges on his fingertips, it will never appear to him.

The Torque is still with him. Yuugi refuses to wear it because of its awkward placement along his collarbones; the weight is in all the wrong places and he can't imagine wearing it for any given length of time. It feels wrong to wear someone else's Item, as if it was not bestowed to him by the gods; it's an Item though, so it sits wherever he last passed out. At night, Yuugi curls his hands around the Item and the box and pretends that they are his, his alone, and that nothing ever happened to them. The Torque has its own ridges and grooves in it that Yuugi's traced out with his fingers every night that seem to tell a story of their own. Ishizu never told him how she came to possess the Torque, but Yuugi remembers her saying that her family guarded the Rod and the Torque, so perhaps when she was old enough it was handed over to her for protection.

Yuugi misses what is said between Anzu and Seto during that time, yet when he does bother to look up and offer each of them another tired smile, it's to see them nearly spitting fire at the other.

"You think we're going to just hand those over to you? Are you stupid?" Anzu scoffs the last of her words out with a dramatic eye roll. Yuugi's seen Anzu pissed before at perverted classmates, or when anyone is being unfair, yet this level of aggression Yuugi hasn't seen since Seto threatened to jump off the castle at Battle City. Anzu doesn't have a speech prepared for this one though. Anzu words are sharp knives into the back of an armoured beast, for while Yuugi is shaking next to her, Seto seems impassive to the remarks. He rolls his shoulders and taps his foot, appearing bored. He waits until she has settled her rage before he speaks.

"You will get them back. I'm not handing them out as actual prizes, unless you've forgotten already that this tournament is a ploy to capture criminals, so they will be safe. Or do you think you have a better way to rescue what you've lost?"

They don't. Yuugi has spent days mulling ideas in his head only to rediscover that this is the only sane method of retrieving the Puzzle and capturing Malik. Ishizu asked them not to harm Malik, and to Yuugi's surprise Seto is taking those words to heart, yet even then there's an unlikely chance there won't be casualties. The death count has momentarily stilled, though once the tournament is underway Yuugi expects to see another homicide, another fight, another loss. Yuugi doesn't expect either Malik or Bakura to give up without a fight.

There's another moment Yuugi misses as he dwells in his thought, so when he does speak up, he cuts short the disagreement, and Seto and Anzu both stare at him with confused expressions. "I'll get them," he tells them.

"You'll what?" Anzu rounds on him, her blue eyes screaming to him, _No, no, anything but that, don't you think that's a bad idea, don't you know bad this'll turn out, don't do this to yourself Yuugi-kun, it's not worth it._ But it is worth it if it means saving the Pharaoh whose soul for a week has been trapped in the shattered pieces. It is worth it if Yuugi can save the Pharaoh because he's been saved by the other more times than he can count on his hands or his dueling cards, and it's time for Yuugi to repay the favour.

"Don't do that Yuugi. Please, please - I know how much the other Yuugi means to you, but you can't do that to yourself. You have no idea what he'll do to those."

No, he doesn't know, but it's better than lying around the shop waiting for the good idea to smack him in the face. Someone else is going to solve the problem. Besides, the god card isn't his - it's the Pharaoh's - and the Item isn't his - it's Ishizu's - which means Yuugi isn't handing over his own Items but other people's, and that makes it much easier to say goodbye to it. Seto will keep it in good hands. Yuugi knows the CEO has a stubborn drive: there's no way anyone will get their hands on his treasures unless he allows it.

Before Anzu can begin lecturing him or chastising Seto, and before Seto can say anything about how Yuugi's not doing anything to solve the problems he's drowning in, Yuugi heads inside and locates the Torque nestled among the blankets and puzzle box he slept with last night. Yuugi doesn't feel wrong for giving this Item away, as it's not his and he was only entrusted with it because Ishizu thought it might help him get Malik. It will, but not because Yuugi is doing anything. Yuugi is doing nothing. He thought maybe the Torque would show him something, like it showed Ishizu glimpses of the future of Battle City, but if the Torque was showing him visions at night, they were the most gruesome and obscure of details. Yuugi doesn't remember much of his nightmares, yet he knows that nothing in those terrible dreams seemed like a vision of the future. No, even after all the magical bullshit that had happened over the last night, the nightmares were nothing but his unconscious spilling out terrible plotlines and deformed characters.

He holds the Torque out reluctantly to Seto at the doorstep, looking down at his socked feet. He doesn't want to meet anyone's eyes as he gives up the Item, and then he reaches into his deck case and hands over the god card, too. The piece of paper feels stronger and sturdier under his shaking fingers, which is good considering he cannot still his hands. Anzu's hands clasp his fingers when he drops his arms to his sides. He feels defeated and fulfilled. Seto will take good care of the Item and god card, yet does that mean Yuugi himself was incapable of keeping it safe? Just like he couldn't keep the other Yuugi safe, or Bakura safe, or Jounouchi safe, or Anzu safe?

"Are you done now?" Anzu asks Seto.

Seto shrugs and turns on his heels. Yuugi watches him climb back into his limo, which has been parked across three parking spots because the chauffeur didn't bother to park properly, and he wouldn't need to because no one has come to the store all morning, yet of all the things that have happened this morning, this is what irks Yuugi. He glares at the back of the black limo that drives through the rest of the parking spaces, as if making note that there are no cars in the lot before it heads onto the road and speeds away. Then Yuugi turns on his heels and heads back inside - to where, he's not sure, but he hopes it to be somewhere warm.

Jounouchi is at the top of the stairs with a bowl of dry cereal and a cup of tea. Yuugi expects he heard everything and is surprised that he didn't storm downstairs and strangle Seto right then and there. However, Jounouchi's entire posture seems off: he's eating and sleeping, but his mind appears blank, as if he's been processing thoughts for years and his internal motherboard is starting to fry. He looks far more tired than he should be.

"Morning," he says to Yuugi, and to Anzu he asks, "How'd it go?"

"It could've been worse," is what Anzu chooses to say, crossing her arms and glaring at a spot at the bottom of the stairs. "He's got Ishizu's Torque and the god cards, like he can pretend to auction these off and not lose them. He's stupid: he's going to lose them. The only reason Malik or the other Bakura hasn't stolen them yet is because they probably didn't know they were with Yuugi - or at least they didn't know the Torque was with Yuugi - but now they're going to know exactly where the prizes are. We're going to lose another Item, and a god card, and it's all because of Kaiba Seto's selfish stubbornness."

"Case and point: he's a bastard." Jounouchi slurps the tea from his cup and frowns. "Is he still expecting us to do anything?"

Anzu doesn't say anything, so Yuugi supplies, "I think he did the work for us. I don't think he trusts us to do anything anymore." And he wouldn't either. What have they accomplished since the accident?

"We shouldn't be doing his work anyway."

"Yeah."

"I'm going to look for Shizuka again. Want to come?"

Yuugi can't think of anything else he can do with his day, even though it's barely started and there is so much he could have been doing. But no. No, he can do nothing.

"Yeah," says Yuugi, and he follows Jounouchi back upstairs to change into outdoor clothes - jeans, t-shirt, whatever is clean and still fits - and brush his messy hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to poppy, who has now determined that all edits must include:  
> \- one (1) mention of Malik's death because the irony is saccharine sweet; and  
> \- one (1) YGO Abridged joke


	15. Chapter 15

Ryou moves the body exactly twelve hours before he tells Shizuka that they need to switch hotels. He neglects to mention that their new location is a timeshare condo tucked back in a sleepy forest that appear to be rarely visited. There is nothing around the lot that would spark the interest of passerby, so Ryou expects to remain invisible for the rest of their trip. He and Shizuka will be hidden until the drama settles, which is OK with him.

"Are we going far away?" Shizuka asks.

Ryou shrugs. "We could head back to the city in less than an hour."

Shizuka seems satisfied with this answer, so when they do check out by sneaking out the door, ignoring the bill, she does not protest. She follows his unsteady pace down the stairs and outside; from there, she treks behind him through the various suburbs and then into the back of a taxi. Ryou explains that they can't use any major transportation because there's a greater chance of being recognised, yet he doubts a taxi driver will see their pallid faces as that of the two missing persons whose mug shots – as Ryou can call them nothing else because of their serious expressions - have appeared every hour on the advertising screens. If the taxi driver does recognise them when they drive through the city, he says nothing.

Ryou spends most of the ride in a delusional state. The drugs seems to be doing something, though Ryou wouldn't call it helpful; then again, neither he nor the Spirit are adept at remembering to take the medication on time, and this may not even be the correct dose. Another violent coughing fit overtakes Ryou and leaves him doubled-over for minutes, choking out his breath until blood clots fall into his tremoring, translucent hands. When he looks up, Shizuka is staring at his bloody hands.

"Are you sure we shouldn't go to the hospital?" she asks.

Ryou wipes his hands on his pants and pauses to catch his breath. "They'll be looking for me, especially since the last place either of us were seen at was the hospital." With a weak smile, he adds, "Don't worry. I'll be fine."

Things become less fine when they get out of the taxi, pay the fare – because Ryou is in charge and he's not taking the man's money, even though the Spirit tries to take control on several occasions to sneak the money from the driver's lockbox, and Ryou has to repossess his hands just to keep them in his lap – and begin the trek to the house. Ryou's vision spins and his lungs burn with each step. He's never had much stamina to begin with, but this exercise seems like a feat of strength with his condition. On multiple occasions he ends up heaving into a ditch, or falling, or losing control and dropping the Spirit in charge.

_It wasn't this hard when we took the body out there – and we were carrying something!_ the Spirit admonishes.

_The body's tired,_ Ryou explains. _We’ll be in luck if we make it there in one piece._

_Ask for help_ _,_ the Spirit teases.

_You do_ _it._

_I don't need help._

Ryou muffles another cough in his sleeve, followed by a stifled sneeze that still manages to throw him forward and onto his knees. Shizuka's hands ghost over his shoulder before she pulls back.

"Do you need help?"

"I'm OK. We're nearly there."

The roads get narrower and darker as they trek deeper into the woods. There are still driveways branching out from the unpaved road, but these roads are sparse, as each house rests on a much larger lot. There aren't many houses in Japan that can boast owning such spacious land, but these places are nearing an hour away from semi-popular civilisation, and over two hours away from the city centre. The air seems clearer, the environment calmer, and the landscape prettier under the soft glow of the sunset. It was morning when Ryou dragged Malik's body out here, down the same roads sans the taxi ride (they'd stolen a car, but Ryou doesn't want to remember the disastrous driving experience he and his other self had had), so the view doesn't mean as much to him as it does to Shizuka.

Ryou remembers hearing from Jounouchi that Shizuka had lost most of her color recognition and general vision abilities as a child, and as such she could barely see her surrounding. It makes sense that now she looks around her like a child who's just spotted their birthday presents. The colours seem to glow in her bright, hazel eyes. She stretches her arms to grab at the plants, or when Ryou pauses to cough, she sniffs the flowers that jut from the fertile ground along the road. There's something about how she drinks in the views that impresses Ryou - perhaps because he's already seen the walk, and perhaps because he's been trying with all his strength to keep his vision clear.

"You know the way there?" she asks after twenty minutes of walking down the same road.

Ryou nods. "We're going to my relative's summer home. They won't be here – they're abroad for the first two weeks of their vacation – so we'll have a place to stay for at least a week. I don't think we'll need anything more than that – things should be cleared up by then."

"And by that you mean?"

The Spirit takes control for this: "Malik Ishtar will have been captured and the Puzzle will have been retrieved. Anything that happens afterwards is no one's but the government's concern: they'll have to figure out what they're doing with the Ishtar siblings."

"The Puzzle isn't with Malik-kun, is it?" It's more of a question than a statement, and both Ryou and the Spirit shrug their shoulders. They can't really answer it without giving away pertinent information; thankfully, Shizuka supplies it for them: "My big bro and Yuugi thought you might've retrieved it, Bakura-kun."

_She knows?_ the Spirit demands. There is an anxious pitch to his tone, one Ryou has never heard before, and Ryou can sense that this information means much more to the Spirit than anyone else. If Shizuka believes that they have the Puzzle, and she knows about the Spirit, how much _does_ she know about all this?

_We're fine_ _,_ Ryou interrupts. To Shizuka, he says, "I was still in the hospital when it happened. I didn't learn of the news until I was back home in my apartment."

"But you escaped the hospital," Shizuka presses. The sinking feeling in Ryou's stomach increases. Not only does she knows where he's been, she's already devised a rough timeline of when he was where. That's disturbing. If she knew that he broke out of the hospital and returned two days later, that means she knows he was out long enough to have gone searching for the Puzzle, maybe even enough time to meet with Malik.

_Does she know we've been in contact with Malik?_ the Spirit says.

_I don't know._

_Ask her._

_I can't just ask her – she's suspicious to begin with. Hell, she's probably suspicious right now because I'm spacing out._

_Ask her_ _,_ the Spirit repeats. _I don't care. If she knows that we've been in contact with Malik, she'll want to know where he is, if he's going to show up in the flesh at the condo, and if she finds out he's dead, she'll be the first one to pin the murder on us, mark my words. You need to figure out how much she's figured out before we dig ourselves a deeper grave_.

_Why are you so worried though?_ Ryou says.

_'M not worried,_ the Spirit argues.

_You're worried – you're asking questions that you never would._ A pause. _Are you afraid someone will come after you?_

_No one's coming after me._

_Are you scared you'll lose the Puzzle?_

The silence seems to speak for him. The Puzzle's thirty-three gold pieces were already transported with Malik's rotting corpse, so Shizuka can't take them until they make their way to the house, but while there are more places to hide bodies and treasures in the new location, Ryou does understand the anxiety the Spirit feels over Shizuka finding anything of theirs, or Shizuka trying to put together the pieces of the mess. Ryou already knew that Yuugi and the others must've filled her in on Ancient Egyptian bullshit when she was thrown into the chaos, but he didn't think she would know that much about him. It's frightening because it means either Yuugi knows much more than he lets on, or Shizuka is a strong, deductive thinker.

_We won't lose the Puzzle,_ Ryou says. _She might know lots, but I doubt she knows what to do with that information. She knows about you and the other Yuugi, but she has yet to piece together what that information actually means._

_I'm not worried._

_Your emotions say otherwise._

_Those are your emotions._

Ryou sighs. _Just ... don't worry. We're not over planning, we're not falling behind, we're not even giving up. Don't panic until there's no other choice but to._

_I should be saying this to you. You're the one who's nervous._

_You wouldn't be saying that to me. I know you better than that._

_Eyes on the road. You're here._

“Here we are,” Ryou says, pointing to the small pathway that leads towards the house. Were he not specifically looking for the house, he would've missed the pathway, as there isn't a road so much as a dirt trail leading deeper into the woods. He beckons Shizuka down the path and the two of them descend deeper into the underbrush. The ground is soft and unsteady; Ryou braces his arms out in front of him so that he doesn't trip on the last legs of the walk.

Within minutes, the house is within sight. For a timeshare tucked back in the country, the timeshare is surprisingly clean-looking. There is a nice, brown trim bordering the structure, and while the house may appear ancient, Ryou can't spot a speck of grime along the white walls. Everything, from the lichen-covered roof to the vines creeping along the front yard, look as if they have been placed there, as if this is a display and not nature free from human constraint. Even the areas of the house that appear more rugged, such as the creaking steps and old, oak door, fit into the timeless building.

"This is one house?" Shizuka says, coming to stand beside him.

"Or so I'm told. I've never been here before."

The inside of the house is as immaculate as the outside. The wooden walls combined with the pale wallpaper give off a gentle aura, while each beam and floorboard appear timeless, as if they've been grounded to this location for centuries. Ryou and Shizuka pad across the floor, neither of them sure where to go; Ryou knows which rooms not to visit, but that's another story, so in the end he takes Shizuka into the kitchen. There are more wood accents in this room, which, combined with the glass cabinets and foggy windows, offers a gentle atmosphere. Ryou pretends to search through the cupboards looking for two teacups, even though he knows exactly where they are, and he sets the kettle to boil.

"This is it?"

Ryou looks over his shoulder. "For the next week, yes."

Shizuka sighs and settles down on the chair. Within seconds, tears are running down her cheeks again. Ryou reaches into his pocket to retrieve his handkerchief and once again hands it to her. He's surprised she didn't cry during the walk, but now that they are 'home' - or what they will call home for the next week - and reality is settling in, the grief has become visible. Shizuka won't be leaving anytime soon, and she believes it's for the best. She believes that this is what needs to happen to ensure the safety of her brother and her brother's friend, so she puts up with Ryou's antics. But Ryou can tell she's not happy - not when she's crying into her hands every day, unable to comprehend why everything is happening and why nothing makes sense and why she has to be away from all of it. It pains Ryou to see the harm he's caused Shizuka, yet ...

_You can't give up._

That's right: everyone has their own goals. Ryou knows that Shizuka doesn't deserve being lied to, but he can't have her snooping around. He can't have her thinking about him and his other self, or about Malik, or about anything to do with the Millennium Items and the Ishtars. Despite Shizuka knowing nothing about any of these things, Ryou muses that she has most of the pieces of the puzzle; if she put it all together, she'd understand it all.

But she doesn't. She is young and naive and innocent. She won't understand anything.

And he won't let her. He's protecting her, just like he protected Amane, and she'll learn in due time why he kept everything from her, why he kept her safe.

The afternoon spirals into the evening which spirals into the night that Ryou barely remembers. He learns that there isn't much to do inside the house, and while he and Shizuka take the opportunities to shower and freshen up, that takes up only a small amount of time in the long day. Soon they are back to pacing around the house in their kimono, as their clothes hang wet outside the house, and if Ryou ever thought he had anything in common with Shizuka, he now knows he doesn't. He tries to remember the stories Jounouchi told him about his little sister, yet they paint a bleak picture of the girl in front of him.

"Do you duel?" he ends up asking, only because his mind can't think of anything else in its delirious state, and if her brother's a duelist maybe she has a slight interest in it too.

She shakes her head. "I used to watch Katsuya play, but he's gotten much better since I last saw one of his duels, and I'm sure he's growing every day. He tells me that you all play." She looks at him expectantly.

"Oh, yes." Ryou fishes his deck out of its case on the kitchen table and presents it to her. "We all play together at school. Yuugi and Jounouchi have been in quite a few tournaments, but I'm more of a casual player." He turns away to cough into his hand. "I haven't competed before," he finishes.

"Yuugi-kun said that you were going to be in the tournament."

Ryou leans his head to the side. "He did?"

_Is she mistaking us for Malik?_ the Spirit asks. The cold creeps into Ryou's mind and makes him flinch as his darkness settles next to him.

_No, but she thinks we were meant to be in the tournament too, which means someone told her that we were collecting cards to get in._

_She couldn't have spoken with Malik,_ the Spirit points out. _He was nowhere near any of them._

_How about Kaiba-kun?_

"Bakura-kun?"

He jumps as he hears his name.

"You're spacing out. Is everything OK?"

"Fine," he manages.

"I was wondering if you were going to be in the tournament. You got hurt, so I thought maybe ..."

Ryou shrugs. He's forgotten about that injury in lieu of all the other worries on his mind, yet he touches the arm wound just to see if it's still tender. Yes, it still hurts. The blood has dried the bandages to him and he wonders if part of his fever is coming from the infected wound, yet in the long run he guesses that this injury is the least of his worries.

"I'd still be able to duel," he admits. "I don't think this would stop me."

"How did it happen?" The question is immediate; Ryou can sense that she's already reading into his answers, countering it with whatever her mind's been poisoned with because Yuugi and the others know little about what's happening. Shizuka's knowledge of this mess is surface level; she knows nothing about his relationship to Malik, to the Items, to the plan to infiltrate the tournament, steal the Puzzle, kill Malik Ishtar, and defeat Mutou Yuugi. Shizuka can perhaps determine that he's possessed, but she has next-to-no knowledge about his relationship with the Spirit, and therefore her ideas are nothing but silly theories.

"Malik hurt me." There's no point lying to her if she barely knows who Malik is. To her, Malik is the mysterious boy that's appeared on national television next to her own and Ryou's pictures, only Malik's shot doesn't show any malice. The picture looks to be at least two years old, and it captures Malik leaning on the rails of a boardwalk, looking over his shoulder with a warm smile. With the soft yellows and pink backdropping Malik's beaming expression, Ryou hardly thinks this is the photo they should use to catch a criminal, but there's a strong chance that there are no other photos of Malik. It doesn't look like Malik though – with the decay in process, Malik's body has gone pale and thin.

Shizuka hasn't said anything to that, so Ryou stretches up his sleeve a bit more to examine the wound. "It's not that bad," he admits. "Want to see?"

Shizuka swallows. "Should we clean it?" she asks, skirting around Ryou's own question.

"I think the bandages are what's keeping it from bleeding everywhere. We can just leave it as is."

"Oh."

Ryou takes a moment to compose himself from another violent coughing fit before he asks her, "Shizuka-chan, if we do enter the tournament, what would you be willing to do?"

"What do you mean?" she replies. There's no shortage of concern in her tone – concern for him, for herself, for whatever plan Ryou's mind is poisoned with by the Spirit. His other self has yet to tell him the exact details of the plan, but Ryou can catch snippets of memories and ideas coming from under the Spirit's soul room door, and his thoughts echo down the hallway like the low tones of an orchestra.

"If we entered the tournament, we'd need to hide our identities. Malik would be going into the tournament too, as well as any of his Ghouls that he enlists for the mission too, and we're on his top hit list. While it would be great to simply reunite with everyone and expect them to protect us, it's not the case. Malik's looking for us in particular, which means that even before we compete we could be in danger. We would need to enter the tournament under an alias, one that no one would recognise us by, and we wouldn't be able to reveal ourselves until Malik is captured. It would be tricky, I think, but ..." His voice peters off at the end, signaling to Shizuka to reply.

She doesn't. She looks at her hands, eyes filling with tears yet again because she can't seem to hold them back for more than an hour, and then looks up at him. Ryou doesn't feel unnerved by her intense stare, but he doesn't know what to say to it either. He knows it's a long-shot and that it pulls a long of strings. Malik won't make it into the tournament either way, and there's no guarantee any of his lackeys will go in hoping to redeem themselves, which means the trap itself is useless. It means that if Seto catches anyone in the trap, it'll be Ryou and Shizuka, the former who has the Puzzle.

_We shouldn't enter then,_ the Spirit remarks. _They'll catch us instead of Malik, get the Puzzle back, and solve none of the Malik problems. If Malik doesn't show up, we'll need to find an excuse to explain why he wasn't interested. This tournament is made for him: the prizes, the location, the style; everything is set to invite him in and then capture him._

_So you want to wait this one out?_ Ryou says. _What about when no one does show up? They're going to be out looking for Malik. We need to find a way to dispose of him._

_You're the game master – make up a plot._

_You are too,_ Ryou deadpans. But once the words are out, his mind is whirring for ideas. The lackeys can kill Malik in revolution, and Ryou's seen or heard of enough of their crimes to mimic their style. He can drop Malik's body in a variety of locations for the police to find, or he can call in as a worried citizen to comment on the corpse, and from there it's making sure that nothing traces back to him.

_They won't trace it back to you - you're innocent._

_Rishid and Ishizu know you were working with Malik, so there's no doubt that the police will be suspicious of me. We can't leave any evidence of us; we can't even be found._

_So you're suggesting we go into hiding when the body is uncovered? That's more suspicious, landlord, and stupid at that_ . Ryou rolls his eyes; the Spirit continues. _If you want to override the suspicion, we need to be found around the same time as they uncover the body, and we need to be found in a way that shows that there was no way we could've been anywhere near Malik. Like get hurt again or something - we need a valid alibi that involves no one else but ourselves that can claim that we didn't kill Malik._

_That's not an alibi then,_ Ryou grumbles. _But I see what you mean – we need a reason to not be able to kill. What about the injury?_

_We killed with the other arm; the police would catch that._

_Illness? Exhaustion?_ Ryou rubs the bandages on his arm in irritation. _There are a dozen reasons why we couldn't be there - are none of those valid to you?_

The Spirit shrugs.

_Will Shizuka-chan be found with us? Did you think about that?_ Ryou smiles as he realises he's caught the Spirit. _You hadn't thought about her yet? Well we have to worry about her too, and she doesn't know we killed Malik, so isn't she the best alibi we've got? If we woke up near Malik's body, and Shizuka can confirm that we never killed Malik for the entire time she was with us, and the hospital visits can confirm that we weren't killing him much of the other time, then don't we already have an alibi? Don't we already have this figured out?_

_You want to wake up next to the body and hope they don't do criminal checks and investigation on every single one of your whereabouts?_

Ryou shrugs. _I doubt they'll believe an ancient spirit used my body to murder Malik, even if I do tell them that._

The Spirit doesn't find it funny. _The police might not suspect you, but Yuugi and the other Ishtars know of me. They know you. You need to find a way to make them believe it wasn't you._

_How about you?_ Ryou snaps back. _It's your fault that Ishizu and Rishid know of you; if you hadn't been so cosy with Malik, they wouldn't know your name._

_They don't know my name; they know_ your _name._

Even though Ryou's still at the kitchen table and Shizuka might still be around somewhere, he leans back and groans under his breath. _There is little difference in whose name they know when it means the same thing to them. It means we are involved, which means you are involved, which means the others will know I have Ring and am possessed by it again. We're lucky Shizuka hasn't put together all the facts, but I bet you Yuugi has. If Yuugi finds me at the scene of crime, he'll suspect you._

The Spirit doesn't say anything.

_That'll mean I'll lose the Ring._

_You wouldn't lose it_ , the Spirit whispers. While Ryou wants to think that there's concern, perhaps fear, maybe anxiety about losing the Ring, he has to remember that the Spirit doesn't have those emotions. The Spirit isn't even human, yet the thoughts bouncing off the walls in hollow notes share with Ryou that his other self does worry about being separated. Ryou can't say that it's loneliness - after all, the sheer number of times Ryou's had a door slammed in his face because the Spirit doesn't want to talk outnumbers the times they have tried to talk - but it seems the Spirit sees something in Ryou that's worth keeping him around and talking to.

_You wouldn't lose the Ring,_ his other self says, this time more with more gusto. _You're not a fucking idiot._

Somehow those words are heartwarming.

_What if I was at the scene of crime without the Ring?_

_No._

_Would that be more suspicious that I didn't have it on?_

_No._

Ryou groans. _I'd put it back on – we both know that – but think about it for a second ... logically. Think about how Yuugi wouldn't need to worry about the Ring because I could say that Malik took it, and that I couldn't get it back. Yuugi doesn't know that you can kill while still being trapped in the Ring, so they couldn't suspect you. If I didn't have the Ring, Yuugi would see me as a victim, and I don't want to be that, but it'll take the blame from me. No one will think it was you if the Ring is gone._

_I'm not agreeing to this –_

_I'm not asking you to, Spirit. I'm saying that unless you can think of a better idea, I'm dropping Malik's body off at the pier and setting myself up to be found as a survivor of a mass homicide._

_I won't let you do it._

The Spirit is pressing into him, ice cold spiking at the corner of Ryou's mind. Ryou pushes back, relentless.

_You can't stop me._

When Ryou's mind hits the Spirit, he feels the exchange of emotions, thoughts, and memories, and they assault his consciousness before he can set up any strong defensive barriers. Ryou is much more protective of his memories, thus the Spirit pushes even harder to break what walls Ryou has set up, but in the end their minds smash into each other and scatter their secrets across the walls of the soul rooms. Ryou can never make out what goes on in the Spirit's head – the black sludge splattering everywhere means little to him – but the anger, the hatred, the disgust barrells him to the side and knocks his breath right out of him.

The darkness is seeping into his soul room. From under his door comes thick tar, bubbling from the hatred, and it creeps along Ryou's pristine room. The first time their souls melded, Ryou had touched the tar, but now he sits on his bed, legs off the floor, and waits for the Spirit to settle. Ryou doesn't bother to shoot his own soul into the Spirit's room, as only someone insane would venture into that crypt, yet when the darkness begins to stretch across the floor, Ryou starts talking.

_Spirit, stop. Stop this. I'm not throwing the Ring away. I'm here, still here, and even if the Ring comes off for a second, I'll put it right back on. I promise._

The darkness stretches up along the walls like climbing hands shadowed against the white backdrop. Ryou shivers in his thin t-shirt and jeans, but the darkness shows no signs of stopping. Inside his head, he can feel the Spirit pacing around, anxious as if he can't control his own powers. Ryou can _feel_ how hard he's thinking about this. With a touch of sympathy, Ryou reflects that the Spirit is worried he'll be alone again, and while the situation is much murkier than that, there is the ever-present feeling that the Spirit doesn't want Ryou to take off the Ring because then he won't have anyone else with him. Just like thousands of years ago, before Ryou's father found the Ring, the Spirit would be alone.

The darkness is pulled from the room like a carpet tugged out under Ryou's legs. Before Ryou can think to question the Spirit's motives, he hears the doors slam in the corridor – first the Spirit's, then his – and Ryou doesn't have to get off his cot to know that he's been locked in his soul room and locked out of his body. The Spirit has taken control yet again.

"I'm not leaving," Ryou says out loud just to hear his voice echo around the room. "You can stop freaking out over that."

The Spirit says nothing, but Ryou is certain he's still paying attention.

"You need to go to sleep. Or keep an eye on Shizuka and make sure she doesn't go snooping around. Have something to eat too. When I get back, you better not have left us in an alleyway somewhere." Ryou holds his breath. Nothing. "Good night, Spirit."

Ryou tucks himself in bed under the dim light seeping through the cracks in his ceiling. They remind him of glow-in-the-dark stars in the way that they explode like small fireworks across his ceiling, but Ryou knows they're from times his soul has been hurt. They've become more frequent, the cracks – some areas seem too bright to even sleep under, but every time Ryou does try to sleep, his body is running off minimal energy, so the bright lighting is but a minor inconvenience.

Ryou once thought that the cracks in his soul room came from his communication with the Spirit – that by hosting the Spirit in his mind, his body and mind were being drained and cracked. Later on, Ryou thought it was the physical symptoms of his crumbling sanity, but when the Spirit told him he'd lost his touch with reality years ago, Ryou abandoned that idea too. Now Ryou wonders if the cracks represent all the times he's fought with someone or another – and in particular, fights with his other self – and these cracks are reminders of the mental battles fought within the body. Ryou has always supposed that the Spirit was doing something to their body, yet now Ryou sees that the affliction is more psychological.

Ryou wonders if the Spirit has cracks on his ceiling too.

Of course, the Spirit doesn't respond to this, and Ryou wrestles with the thin sheets on his bed to keep a comfortable position. His eyes hurt with tiredness but his mind refuses to settle, so within minutes Ryou gets up to grab a book from his shelf and return to his bed to read it. He's spent enough time in his soul room to have read this particular book a half-dozen times, yet while there is no way to get new reading material into the soul rooms, Ryou settles for re-reading his favourites.

It is hours of reading before his soul room door unlocks. Ryou pretends he doesn't hear the sweet sound of the lock being jiggled before turning all the way, and instead he continues to read his book. Let the Spirit think this isn't what he wanted. Let the Spirit continue to be in control of the body and regret his decision of cutting Ryou off. Let the Spirit assume that he is in control, only to crush it when Ryou doesn't come running to the door and kissing his other's shoes in repayment for freeing him. Ryou doesn't see this act as saving as much as giving up controlling the body.

After several minutes of waiting, during which Ryou finishes what page he's reading and returns the book to its place on the shelf, Ryou tests the door. He turns the cold, brass knob in his hands and pushes open the door. The hallway is cold, dark, and silent; while there are no shadows crawling around, Ryou can feel the crackle of shadow magic in the air. The Spirit has been patrolling around here; Ryou can feel the particular taste on magic on his sated tongue, and like a scent, the raw energy reminds him of when the Spirit lets loose his dark magic in the flat.

_Are you still here, Spirit?_ he asks. Ryou heads down the length of the hallway, gingerly stepping on the cold floor with his bare feet. The walls are wet, as they usually are whenever he or the Spirit are feeling any strong emotions. Ryou once wondered if this was a psychological manifestation of sadness meant to represent tears, yet the moment he told this to the Spirit, he'd received a slammed door to the face and a harsh remark of, _Stop moping around then if you don't want the body depressed._

There are no puddles about the Spirit's door, so Ryou assumes it's him who's feeling mopey. Oh well. Ryou gives the door two strong taps with his knuckles before takes one, two steps back and waits for the Spirit to answer.

He doesn't.

Ryou can't feel the Spirit controlling the body, and unless the Spirit is trying to trick him into thinking he's in control, Ryou knows the body is resting and that they are both in their soul rooms. He can feel his other self's energy seeping through the dark; the rancid shadow magic crackles and burns around his feet, nipping at the holy light that glows around Ryou's body. His other self is ignoring him, as he often does when he's moody or not feeling right, and after he lashes out, Ryou finds he tucks himself in the darkness of his mind.

Ryou raps on the door once more. "Spirit?"

_You do what you need to do to cover your tracks. Far be it from me to have a good idea, much less an idea that meets your perfect ideals. Go for it - take the Ring off, pretend Malik Ishtar would have the strength much less the nerve to take it from me - and act like someone won't catch your lies. But when it's over? The Ring will find you. That Ring will be back around your neck before you can even think to take it off again, and I promise you I will never leave again._

The door swings open but the Spirit doesn't step through. Ryou wants to mention how anxious the Spirit appears, swaddled in a red cloak that, while a tad short for him, offers him some comfort. He has his arms crossed over his chest and one bare foot taps on the dusky floor of the soul room, sending little puffs of darkness in the air. His other self glares at him and straightens his shoulders.

_Do I make myself crystal-clear?_

Ryou nods and smiles. _Yes, other me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to poppy, who kindly told me that Bakura is the third wheel in this chapter.


	16. Chapter 16

Two terrible things happen on Friday morning. The first Seto expects: they can't find the Puzzle. The Coast Guard has searched high and low for days, drawing on research teams and meteorologists and oceanographers and divers to work together to determine where the Puzzle would've gone under the water water, how deep it would’ve fallen, and what would be needed to retrieve it. Throughout the week Seto had heard nothing but bad news - that the water had been choppy that night and could have scattered the pieces further apart; that while the Puzzle is made of gold, it can't be detected by a typical metal detector; and that while there is an entire team dedicated to retrieving this precious artefact, the chances of successfully capturing it are slim to none.

Seto had been angry about that. He is still angry about it as he glares at his mobile and its dimmed display screen. Moments before, the head of the operation had telephoned him to say that they couldn't find the Puzzle, and that most likely someone had already come to collect it, either a person or a fish, though the man had suspected the former. It takes Seto only a second to remember that Yuugi had said Bakura Ryou had been interested in the puzzle and that his Item – complete with its own superpowers – has the ability to track down the other Items.

So Bakura Ryou has the Item. And Bakura Ryou is missing. And while Seto has broadcasted missing person reports for him and Kawai Shizuka, as well as a criminal report for Ishtar Malik, Seto has yet to have anyone call him with information. Perhaps this is because they are all together as Yuugi and Ishizu have mentioned, though Seto suspects otherwise. He knows little about these missing people, but reports of Malik have shown him to be harsh to his followers, so he suspects if Malik is working with anyone now, he shouldn't be working with them for long.

Which brings Seto to the second terrible thing: the tournament. Seto stands behind Mazaki and Honda, both who man the registration table to register young duelists into Magic Nation. They take the duelist's names, ages, deck types, and ranks, which are then recorded into a program Seto designed himself to match up duelists of similar strengths and abilities for the preliminary duels. Most of the duelists are junior high or high school students with average ranking decks, though there are a few international duelists who must've stayed in Domino past Battle City, and then extended their vacation when they learned Seto would be hosting another tournament.

Were this a regular tournament, the turnout would be admirable. Thirty names are registered within the first half-hour, and forty-five duelists come in total. Mokuba flashes him a small smile at the sight of the young duelists sitting in the chairs arranged on either side of two rows of table. The duelists already registered have begun to set up their duel mats and decks, so Yuugi and Jounouchi come around and remind them that they may be switching places once the matchups are decided.

There are forty-five duelists in total - the best turnout for a one-day tournament - and none of them are Malik Ishtar. Ishizu stands next to him, glowing in the sunlight streaming through the skylights above the room, and she watches each duelist pass by with a calculated glance, like a stoic security guard. It's been an hour, and throughout the buzz of excitement of winning the Puzzle and the God Cards, Malik hasn't shown up.

Fuck.

Bakura isn't here either. Seto would recognise that particular person, but his classmate is also absent, as is Shizuka, as is Malik, as is any chance of Seto accomplishing the goal set out for this tournament. A small voice in his head exclaims,  _ This was a waste of time! This was a waste of time! _ and Seto has to agree with it when everything has failed. They've wasted hours - days even - planning one tournament for capturing two duelists, and neither of them show up. Seto has no doubts that both of them have seen the advertisements on the TV, radio, billboards, and walls, so if they chose to come, it wasn't because they didn't know about it. They knew. They knew and something stopped them from coming.

It's been three times since Ishizu has reminded him that she hasn't seen Malik yet, and Seto is ready to snap at her for voicing such a pointless observation. None of them have seen Malik. None of them have seen Bakura. None of them have seen Shizuka. Or any traces of Ghouls, or any chance that anyone affiliated with the Millennium Items is coming to the tournament.

They've failed. The words play a slow, painful note in Seto's heart that starts at his head, piercing into his skull, and then moves down to silence his voice. There is a deep lump in his throat that keeps his words, sarcastic remarks, and groans out; he can only stand, still as a statue, mute as a mime, and wait for the chaos to play out. A part of Seto wants to abandon this all, cancel the tournament once again because none of it is worth it, but Mokuba's small hand in his own gives him a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

"We can still let them play," Mokuba says.

Seto shrugs and storms away. Mokuba knows how to run the tournament without him, and Yuugi and Jounouchi have done enough research and played in enough card games themselves to be able to arrange the tournament for the rest of the day. The little children sitting at the dueling tables with their amateur decks and naive smiles can have their fun tournament day. Seto doubts any of them would be strong enough to make it into Battle City had that particular tournament gotten off on the right foot. And maybe that's it - maybe Magic Nation with its consolation prizes and young audience is too immature for professional duelists like Bakura and Malik, and perhaps they saw no gain in competing in a child's tournament.

But the Items. Seto slams the door to the limo with enough force to shake the car. The Items were supposed to sell the deal. Malik and Bakura and Yuugi and everyone else was convinced that the Items would attract them, that these supposed magical golden artefacts would draw anyone out of hiding and be the bait for criminal duelists. And Seto had believed them with all his heart, desperate to get his rival back, to be able to see the real Yuugi return.

But no. No, no, no. Seto runs his fingers through his hair, taking deep, ragged breaths, No, nothing worked. No, the tournament was a failure.

Yes, he lost the Puzzle. Yes, Bakura and Malik are still on the loose.

His phone rings twice on the drive back to the house and Seto refuses to pick up either time. He has ringtones programmed for each important number in his mobile, and both times he hears Yuugi's number go off. Both times he ignores it; when the third call goes through, Seto hangs up on that one just to tell Yuugi that he does not want to talk. He does not want anything to do with Yuugi or the others, or with anyone who isn't Mokuba (though if Mokuba did call him now, Seto may have hung up on him too, as anything to do with the tournament makes his head pound harder).

At home, Seto stands in the hallway for ten minutes and tells himself to do nothing he'll regret an hour later. He can't throw all the files away. He can't hunt down the Millennium Items, or call anyone, or blame anyone other than himself because this was his tournament he organised, this was his mess he created, and now it's his fault that it didn't work. Seto stomps one foot in frustration, hears the ringing in his ears as the sound bounces around the vaulted ceilings of the mansion and scatters down the hallways. A part of him wants to growl "It's unfair," but his adopted father has never allowed him to be that petty, and Seto doesn't want to accept any defeat, so he focuses on regulating his breathing and calming his headache. His phone rings twice more - one from Yuugi, once from Anzu - and he lets the messages go to his answering machine.

No one bothers to ask him why he's standing at the entryway with his head bowed, and Seto bites his lip when he realises that a week of preparation – a week of long days and longer nights, of phone calls and business meetings and reports, of planning and organising and reorganising – was for naught. They have accomplished nothing.

The door opens and Seto doesn't have to turn around to know that the soft footfalls, the warm hands around his waist, the soft face and hair buried into the small of his back is his little brother who's come home. Mokuba gives the fullest of hugs and doesn't let go until Seto pulls away to turn around and face his sibling properly. Mokuba doesn't cry or yell at him for leaving; he smiles up at his brother like he's found an angel and exclaims, "I found you, Big Brother."

"It's not hard," Seto admits. He looks behind Mokuba at the open door. "Are the others still there?"

"Rishid and Ishizu are still in the car. They need to go back to the company, right?"

Seto shrugs. "They're useless now. Let them go."

"But what about capturing Malik?"

"He doesn't have the Puzzle. We'll go after Bakura – much easier considering he's most likely not hiding from us. We'll send a search party out to his house, then to the hospital, and any location that he could possibly have visited when he was running around the city: parks, hospitals, convenience stores."

"Yuugi is still at the mall. He says we need to come up with replicas of the Items to please the children who entered." Mokuba's fingers toy with the buttons on his jacket, to which Seto leans in closer and rests his hands on his brother's shoulders. Mokuba will be tall someday, but for now he's petite and fragile; too small and slender to be a Kaiba, and too sarcastic to be anything but Seto's little brother.

Seto waits a moment for Mokuba to elaborate, and when he doesn't, he asks, "They're still running the tournament?"

"In a way, yes. There's not going to be a major winner, and everyone will get a prize based on their total number of wins over five games. I know that's not what you had in mind, but Yuugi says that this is what needed to happen if we aren't going to fairly organise a tournament. He says he doesn't want to make mistakes."

_ That _ is a low blow. Seto growls in the back of his throat; what right does Yuugi have to say that to him when he did next to nothing for this tournament, when he spent this week ringing up hotels for a person who Seto already put out missing persons advertisements for, and when Yuugi has spent half of his days locked in his room. Yuugi has no right to complain about fairness when he's ignoring the duty of the Puzzle, because whether or not there are two Yuugis or three Yuugis, Seto will be damned in he doesn't get a second chance at dueling Yuugi at his best.

Mokuba tells him some other ideas about the tournament and the group that is still trying to hold it together, yet Seto spaces out after the first minute, and he settles for nodding absently to his younger brother's words until he can bid Mokuba goodnight. Seto doesn't plan on falling asleep – that would be absurd – but as he settles into bed with his laptop on his thighs, his eyes start to ache with the return on the pounding headache.

Bakura Ryou will be at a hotel. That means he's either checked into a room, or he's broken in. Seto assumes the former; if Bakura were hiding for one night, he checked himself in and out free of charge. However, Ryou is staying for far longer, which means that unless he expects no one to check into his room during tourist season of Domino, and unless he wants to switch hotels every night, he's signed in under an alias. Seto can find aliases like he can sniff out snitches and rats in the business world, so he gets to work at calling and leaving messages for twelve hotels in Domino that are near to KaibaCorp, the Kame Game Shop, the pier, and Bakura's own house. He makes a point of checking out all of them tomorrow unless something during the day interrupts him, but it shouldn't because nothing seems more important than retrieving the Puzzle from Bakura.

"Yuugi and the others already did that," Mokuba explains, coming up beside him to stare at the computer. "Remember, I went with them? And you said it was a waste of time and that the tournament would help? Are you having second thoughts about those words –”

"I don't regret anything," Seto remarks as he weasels his way out of Mokuba's grip around his shoulder. "They weren't looking in the right places and I was focusing on the tournament. Now that that's out of the way –”

"You mean abandoned?"

"It's still running." Seto clears his throat and gives Mokuba a pointed look. " _ Now _ that that's out of the way, I can do the job that they couldn't. They probably were being careless when they went snooping around the hotels and alerted Bakura and Malik to their search, which is probably why neither of them showed up. If I had done it – and I wouldn't have until I was ready – we wouldn't be in this situation. I'm sure the hotel manager would've given me the reports, free of charge, the moment I put the warrant on their desk.

"You'd blackmail them?" Mokuba asks.

"Not blackmail – coerce. Make them think this is what they need to do to ensure no one dies and their hotel remains the prestigious structure they want to believe it is."

"But I did that already! And I didn't blackmail them or scare anyone away – he let me look at the papers, and it was me who deduced that Bakura was probably using an alias. I found that all out, and you think I did nothing? That I was as useless at them?"

"I didn't say that," Seto reminds him.

This only seems to make Mokuba more flustered. "Well I can come with you then and show you I've already talked to some of these people. It'll be a waste of your time, but by all means trust your own gut instinct instead of your brother's. It's not like I can do anything."

Seto folds the rest of the papers on his desk, prints out twelve documents of places to visit, and begins to arrange the case files and search warrants for each of the hotels on his list. "You sound angry and I don't know why," he notes. "I never said you couldn't come, or that your work with Mutou and the others didn't help. Thank you for your hard work."

There's a flicker of a smile that Mokuba desperately tries to cover with his hand and a cough. "Like that's supposed to make me feel better."

Seto shrugs. "It's not; it's an apology."

"That doesn't sound like an apology either."

Without missing a beat, still folding and stapling papers together, Seto asks, "Are you coming tomorrow?"

The way Mokuba throws his weight to one side, one arm braced on the table while the other one rests in his trouser pockets reminds Seto of the rich businessmen whose appearances alone radiate money and power. While Seto can say that the others have regressed into shells of themselves, this dilemma has helped Mokuba blossom into a reasonable, diplomatic vice-CEO. He still retains his childish immaturity, as children should never lose, yet Seto sees the strength - the Seto not the Kaiba - in him that glows brighter than white light across the battlefield.

"I didn't think I'd need an invitation," Mokuba says, all air and grace, trying to grow up faster than Seto himself.

Seto doesn't look up from his paperwork again. He waits for Mokuba to do something, maybe challenge him on another topic, but his little brother makes a show of cocking his hip even further to the side, stretching one arm languidly across Seto's desk.

"Get to sleep then. We're leaving early."

Mokuba spins on one heel and marches out the door like a toy soldier retiring from a day of work. "And you're not sleeping tonight?" he drawls from the doorway, looking over one shoulder just enough to catch Seto's with a dark eye.

"I'll be there in a moment."

"You won't," Mokuba says, and he leaves the room to Seto and the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delayed chapter! it's been a busy month for poppy and i!  
> and once again, thank you to poppy for her kindness and support through this entire fic!


	17. Chapter 17

"Have I ever told you Kaiba is a fucking idiot?" Jounouchi growls over a burger, toppings oozing between two patties and a thick, doughy bun. Yuugi knows of the best places to get food, so once they finished up the tournament, handed out the consolation prizes to the naive youngins - who were only a year younger than Yuugi and Jounouchi, in some cases - it was time to head back. There is some enjoyment to be had in seeing young duelists excited about M&W their happiness was contagious as they poured over their dueling strategies, battling against each other in the most peaceful duels Yuugi has seen in months. When did dueling become equivalent to life and death matches? When did dueling involve stakes greater than a win/lose score? When did dueling become dangerous?

Yuugi wishes he could ask anyone why they would use M&W to hurt, to harm, to kill, to manipulate? M&W was the product of a sad man's wish to revive his wife - a happy mission, a pure mission - and someone took that same wish, maybe that same man, maybe a man manipulating that man, and the game became a weapon. The game became the ultimate weapon to annihilate anyone who dared desecrate another's dream. Yuugi remembers when he used to collect trading cards like he collected pretty rocks on his walk home, or when he got into anime figures, particularly the swimsuit models, before he found M&W. He can't imagine his beach beauty figures hurting him, so how can these cards be any different?

It's magic. He knows that. He's not going to be a jerk like Seto and pretend that what's going on is a computer malfunction, a cheap trick, or a psychological disturbance, though Malik's psyche is one to be questioned. There's people messing with the Items and with fate and with other people's  _ lives  _ for the sake of a card game.

That's  _ wrong. _

These innocent duelists packing up their second-rate decks could have been victims. But other children could've been part of the mess that was Battle City, and it chokes Yuugi to think that something like that - a tournament dangerous enough to hurt another - could have happened. What would've happened had Malik and Bakura shown up? Would they have had a chance to duel before they were apprehended by Seto? Would they fight back? Would anyone have gotten hurt?

Yuugi doesn't like to imagine the pain.

Jounouchi and Anzu keep talking, and Honda makes the occasional side comment as they meander down the street of a quiet road. They've all got burgers in their hands - his and Jounouchi's the size of their heads, Anzu's slightly smaller but still stuffed with extra vegetables and dripping with sauce because she takes her burgers seriously, and Honda's consisting of only the meat and bun - because no one thought about breakfast or lunch despite it being dinnertime, and because none of them can think about what'll happen when they get back to the game shop. Honda's volunteered himself to accompany them because things are now goingseriously wrong and Jounouchi might need someone to keep him sane, and that person can't be Yuugi when he's losing light himself.

With time existing as an entity separate from Yuugi's dimension, he doesn't realise what is going on until Jounouchi shakes him back to earth with a strong hand throwing his shoulder back and forth. Yuugi's vision spins from the motion, so he still can't see what's happening, but he can hear Jounouchi calling to him: "Yuugi? Yuugi, look at me! Wake up - your eyes were open the whole time anyway!"

"Wha –”

Oh. Yuugi sees Ishizu and Rishid in their divine glory. They don't appear to be in a rush, though Yuugi wonders where they're heading if they're not with Seto. To his knowledge, they were staying at KaibaCorp until the mess was settled, but Yuugi knows nothing is fixed, and the Ishtars are walking away. Before he can process what he is doing his feet are slapping the pavement as he runs forward.

Something pours forth from his mouth in a flustered, angry, and loud voice, something that sounds like his mangled pronunciation of the name "Ishtar-san," and when Ishizu sees him, she turns around and keeps walking. She pretends, or at least Yuugi would reckon so, that she didn't see him, and she moves down the walkway like a spectre in the breeze.

Just like before, Anzu reaches out to grab Ishizu's hand, but the woman pulls her hand back and whips around, robes fluttering in the wind, wrapping around her thin body and oily hair and pallid face. Ishizu looks tired with her icy stare that can’t hide the dark bags underneath her eyes and the way her pursed lips quiver at the four teenagers standing before her with mixed expressions of disgust.

"Where'd Kaiba let you off to?"

"I'm done," she hisses, and Yuugi hears the hatred in her tone. "My family are not criminals and we will not be detained by the likes of you or Kaiba Seto. We are getting Malik and going home, without your help, and before anything becomes worse. Now –”

Jounouchi scoffs. "You think you'll find him? If he's with Bakura, you'll never find your brother."

Ishizu flinches at Jounouchi's words, but Yuugi can tell she's not breaking down in front of any of them. Rishid doesn't say a word as Ishizu leans in to growl, "I will find him."

"Not unless you help us."

"And you will be more helpful than Kaiba?"

"Kaiba believes we're following fairies and ghosts; he's ridiculous like that."

Just like before, Anzu is the voice of reason: "Miss Ishtar, we suspect that your brother, our friend Bakura-kun, and Jounouchi's little sister, Shizuka-chan, are all together, along with Yuugi's Puzzle. They are hiding out in the city somewhere, and while Seto might have the best technology, we know our friends and you know your brother. If we work together, we can find them, but we need your help again. Please, help us."

"You haven't found Malik yet," Ishizu snaps. "What makes you think you'll find him now? Any of you? He must know you're hunting him, so if you want to protect him, then I suggest you let us be. My brother's life is no one's concern but my own."

Yuugi fumbles for the words on his tongue. "But my Puzzle ..."

"– is not with Malik anymore. I've heard you say it before, that your friend Bakura has much more interest in it. Malik threw it away; why would you bother blaming him for taking it?"

"Maybe because he broke it in the first place?" Jounouchi growls, but Ishizu shakes her head.

"I can't let you think you can apprehend my brother when he is no longer at fault. Rishid and I will get Malik and take him home. Then we can all be at peace, with this crime behind our backs –”

"My sister's gone because of your brother!" Jounouchi breaks in, stepping forward to challenge Ishizu. Ishizu, though commanding a great presence, comes up to Jounouchi's chin, yet the way she lifts her face and holds her pose seems to only make Jounouchi bristle. Neither one of them backs down - Ishizu's placidity challenges Jounouchi's fieriness, until Yuugi gathers up the courage to step between them. There shouldn't be fighting; there's been enough fighting.

But he's still pissed at Ishizu. That doesn't change.

"Ishizu-san, if you don't come with us, I'll need to call the police, who can detain you and deport you back to Egypt. Please, don't make me do this." Yuugi sees Ishizu's eyes flick to him for a second, as if she's considering gracing his presence with her attention. Yuugi continues: "Please, help us find our friends and your brother. I don't want anyone else to get hurt, so please, come with us."

And Yuugi has never seen someone walk away with such grace and power as Ishizu Ishtar, who turns her back to them all and continues down the boardwalk. Anzu makes to grab the woman's hand again, but something in the air tells them all to let her walk away. Yuugi doesn't bother to call the police and report her; if Seto has a problem with Ishizu being out and about, he'll detain her himself. Seto probably has a plan, something that will solve all the problems the others have created while unsuccessfully solving Seto's own, and Yuugi hopes that whatever this plan is, it keeps everyone alive.

"She's insane," Jounouchi remarks, the air whistling between his teeth as he sighs. "She's gonna get herself killed with that attitude, and no one's gonna be there to save her. But ..." Jounouchi stomps one foot on the ground which sends dust puffing around their ankles. "She's gonna let it all happen, as if she isn't responsible for what her family does, as if she can walk away from what her brother's done to everyone. That's wrong. You take the blame for your family even if you don't love them or are like them. That's just what you do."

"I think she's just lost," Anzu explains. Bracing her arms against a bike rail, she continues, "She doesn't know  _ how _ to help Malik, but maybe she thinks if she lets him be, he'll return. Which isn't going to work, mind you - someone's going to turn them in if they see them on wanted posters too, and Malik will be captured once the police find the trail."

"We'll find Shizuka before then though," Jounouchi says in a voice without worry. "That's damn true."

As if nothing happened, as if Yuugi is a pull-along toy that accompanies them on their own quests, they continue walking back home. Yuugi feels his life speed up and slow down at the same time as the rhythm of their feet hit the pavement in steady, even steps. The glow of the evening sun reminds Yuugi of walks home from school, of afternoons spent with Jounouchi outside the game store, or Friday-night game nights with Anzu, Honda, Bakura, all crowded around the kotatsu in the living room. With distant pain, like an old wound that still stings even after it's healed, Yuugi realises he hasn't touched a game in over a week. When he did give up games? When did he assume his distrust of M&W could extend to all games in general? When did Yuugi stop seeking out comfort and companionship in toys that once brought him joy?

When those games became dangerous. When those games hurt and  _ killed. _

Yuugi doesn't cry – he's cried enough to last a year, and he doesn't need to cry, he shouldn't be crying, what does crying solve, and he can wait until he gets home – but the walk and train ride back to the game shop seems lonely even with his friends at his side.

When Yuugi gets home, there's six messages on his answering machine, all from Kaiba Seto, and four more e-mails also from Seto. They are all without titles or contexts, but Yuugi can already begin to imagine what Seto is looking for: Malik, Ishizu, Bakura, the Puzzle. Yuugi doesn't bother to answer any of them, but he sifts through the messages just to see what Seto's been up to since he ditched them at the mall.

A search and rescue mission. Seto wants to find Shizuka and Bakura and save them, and find Malik and capture him. The tone would sound suspicious for anyone who doesn't know Seto and his direct tone of voice - a voice that offers no comfort, no vagueness, no disagreement. If Yuugi can see the police turning away Seto's request to search for the missing persons, Yuugi prays the officers survive. If he once thought he was obsessed for staying inside a burning building to retrieve his Puzzle, and having to be physically pulled from the flaming room by his closest friend, Kaiba Seto surpasses those judgments with his unrelenting persistence.

That's not to say that Yuugi believes Seto will get the Puzzle. Seto may have connections and abilities and power, but refuses to believe in any of the magic; thus, depending on what happens when he finds Malik, Bakura, or the Puzzle, his responses could differ. Yuugi can see Seto beginning to see the Puzzle as something important to Yuugi, but to believe that there is a person, an Ancient Egyptian Pharaoh trapped inside the Item, is a bit farfetched for Seto's strict mind. Yuugi will be lucky if he believes that the Ishtars are guardians of some of the Millennium Items, or that there are powers connected to the Items themselves that grant the Item bearer unique abilities.

"He's damn annoying," Jounouchi mutters as he glances at the answering machine and appears to spot the missed messages number flickering across the small display screen. "He should've known we were out of the house, and yet he still thought to call over and over again."

"He's just trying to help," Yuugi says with a shrug. After all, he can't dismiss Kaiba's help when Yuugi will do anything to return the Puzzle and his friends to him.

"That's not helpful," is all Jounouchi says. He raids the fridge once more, coming back to Yuugi with leftover rice balls and cans of cold coffee that Yuugi doesn't remember seeing anyone in his family buy. He knows his mother doesn't drink coffee, and his grandfather treats himself to one once in a blue moon, but Yuugi sucks back the caffeine to shake himself of his hazy mind. He drinks this particular brand every morning before school, on trips to the conbini to purchase breakfast, sometimes lunch, and always a can of milky coffee.

Somewhere in his mind, he hears Anzu say, "That's going to make you short!" but Yuugi already knows that he's not growing more than an inch, so the coffee isn't going to stunt him anymore than his genes have. He's got nothing to lose and everything to gain if he chugs this beverage to wake himself up.

"Tomorrow," Jounouchi explains to him, "we're going back to Bakura's house. Once more, just to make sure he hasn't returned home hurt. Shizuka might be with him, and if Bakura is no longer working with Malik, then those two might be separate from Malik and the Ghouls. I bet Seto'll have some information tomorrow from the hotels, so we can find out if anyone in Domino seem suspicious."

"And you think we can just waltz into Bakura-kun apartment?" Anzu asks, crossing her arms.

"I never said that," Jounouchi states. "We might have to find a creative way to get in."

"Breaking and entering sounds creative," Honda jokes, smothering his laugh when Anzu gives him a pointed look. "I mean, we can always explain that we're here to check up on Bakura, and we'll see if his landlord has seen him around. Maybe they've seen some people go by - maybe Shizuka, maybe Malik. At least we'll be able to narrow down when Bakura last and when he was last spotted before he dropped off the face of the planet."

Yuugi nurses his coffee and nods. He considers doing something not illegal in case Seto is watching him, but by this point Yuugi has already had far darker thoughts, so the idea of sneaking into his friend's house seems mild.

"Should we get Mokuba?" Honda asks.

"And let Kaiba in that we're going after Malik?" Jounouchi snaps. "Hell no - we don't need any Kaiba's getting word of this. If my sister is with Bakura, I want Kaiba as far away from her as possible."

They lapse into several more uneasy silences before Anzu takes her leave upstairs to see, and Yuugi and Jounouchi get to work cleaning up the guest room - still messy a week later - so Honda has a place to sleep. There's a lot of pictures in this room from the hundreds of albums his mother has collected of their adventures. She never captures the particularly memorable ones - the ones where Yuugi can't remember the events, or when he had the Puzzle and things started getting weird, or when he befriended the Spirit of the Puzzle and things got even weirder - but there's some good photos of the group of them throughout their school years.

The first thing that Yuugi's eyes are drawn to is the Puzzle around his neck. It glows like a bright symbol of his first year of high school, like a good luck charm that became 'his thing'. It still is 'his thing' because no one else bothers to wear gaudy gold jewellery on display, yet it brings a teary smile on his face when he catches sight of a picture of him and Jounouchi holding the Puzzle between them, Yuugi looking to meet his friend's smile; it almost appears staged until Yuugi remembers this is when Yuugi told Jounouchi about how he solved the Puzzle, and he let his best friend hold the precious Item and run his thumbs along the grooves in the metal, cup his palms around the cold corners and pulsing Eye of Wadjet in the centre.

He doesn't have the time to look at other photos, yet once again, when Yuugi falls asleep his hands wrap around the Puzzle box, his last memento of the Pharaoh.

This time his mind drifts to what it must be like for his friends who don't have ancient Spirits sharing their head. What must it be like for Jounouchi and Anzu or Honda to not have someone aware of their thoughts and actions, and on occasion commenting on such events? What must it be like to not feel another presence in the corner of one's consciousness, acutely aware of the world around them? And then, what must it be like for people like Ryou, who have another conscience that they must avoid with all their willpower? What must it be like for Ryou to have to ignore the voice in his head, to resist the Spirit of the Ring's wishes?

In a way, Yuugi is jealous of Ryou for still having the Ring because at least Ryou is not lonely. Ryou is never by himself.

Ryou is with _ him. _

And somehow it hurts Yuugi deeper than any cut he's ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oi look, another late chapter. this time Poppy and i were at ACen - one busy vacation! and thanks again to Poppy, who kindly splits up my chapters so they aren't so damn long.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drinking game for this chapter: take a drink every time Bakura drops Malik's body to the floor.

Ryou doesn't hear from the Spirit for two days, during which he tries to maintain some normalcy in their hectic lives. There isn't much food in the house except non-perishables like pickled vegetables, rice, and frozen fish, but he and Shizuka make dinner with what they can, and what they arrange on the table each night is a pitiful example of a meal. They sit across from each other, Ryou trying to keep his eyes focused and his body upright, and Shizuka sitting rigid on the floor, legs tucked under her body swathed in loose t-shirts and shorts because there is no children's clothing in this house. Ryou has tried to make conversation with her, yet it is clear that she is still grieving for her mother and missing Jounouchi, to the point that one day Ryou found her tucked under the blankets, whispering lullabies to herself.

"You know," he tells her one afternoon as he watches her switch positions under the kotatsu, never comfortable, "when I miss someone I write letters to them."

She sits up just enough to meet his eyes, expression guarded. He's lost most of his voice from the pneumonia which, while he's been able to kick some of the symptoms back with the antibiotics, the cough and dizziness has persisted; his voice is a weak whisper that she still manages to catch. Shizuka doesn't answer her, but her guarded expression encourages him to continue.

"My family's been away for various reasons, and when I miss them, I write them a letter."

"About what?" Shizuka asks.

Ryou chews on his lip. "Anything, really - school, life, future. You don't have to mail it to them; it's just to get the ideas out."

Shizuka mulls on the idea for several moments before she rises, stretching her arms above her head and cracking her back in several places, and heads off in search of epistolary equipment. She returns minutes later with a thick stack of paper and several pens of varying colours, which she spreads out before her like she's displaying her tools. Ryou's never thought too much about the way his letters appear; often times they are scribbled onto the backs of homework papers or faded recipe cards. His letters are messily-written as if he's remembering the information for the first time too, as if he's reminding himself of the details. His letters to Amane are more well-kept than the hasty reminders he's written himself in case he ever loses track of entire days or weeks, yet they are nothing compared to the artistic masterpieces Shizuka creates on the surface of the kotatsu, pens held with a delicate grip as she inscribes line after line of small, precise characters. Shizuka writes with the grace of an artist and the word choice of an elementary schooler: most of her writing consists of bubbly hiragana and no kanji. Nonetheless, he peeks over her shoulder at the writing until she shuts him down with an embarrassed blush, pulling the paper to her chest to hide its contents.

"Don't peek. It's embarrassing," she tells him.

Ryou turns away to muffle his laughter, which soon becomes a burning cough that shakes his shoulders. "I-I wouldn't be embarrassed of that," he tells her when he can at last speak. "I already said I write letters too."

She pushes a piece of lined paper and a black pen towards him. Ryou takes the request, settling down next to her and taking the pen in his shaking hands. He hasn't written to Amane since before Battle City, so maybe he should fill her in on all the disastrous details her big bro has encountered since then. He wonders what Amane would say to killing Malik Ishtar, to kidnapping Jounouchi's little sister, to hiding away in their relative's timeshare apartment while they plot how to dispose of Malik's corpse without getting caught. He's told Amane on several occasions about the Spirit, but this would be the first time he's told her about specifically _working with_ the Spirit. In his dreams of her, Amane's already had plenty to say about his other self: he's a criminal, he's greedy, he's confusing, he's manipulative, he's lost. Ryou thinks that if Amane ever did meet the Spirit down the road in the Afterlife, the two of them would get along better that he and the Spirit do now. Amane has that devilish twist to her personality - that penchant towards trouble - that Ryou acts upon only when he needs to, and if Amane ever did end up with the Ring (god forbid she did, but still, food for thought) she'd make a much better thief than Ryou.

These thoughts seem to manifest clearer than anything else Ryou's mulled over these past two days, so it's no surprise when the Spirit appears at the corner of his vision, sitting beside Ryou with his body semi-transparent through the kotatsu, and still wearing his red cloak and cocky smirk. He looks tired though, as if the two days he's locked himself up in the soul room have been for anything but sleeping, but Ryou's learned not to comment on the Spirit's activities unless he wants to hear the gruesome details, so he returns to writing his letter.

The Spirit looks around with glazed eyes at Ryou before he scooches closer, rests his chin on the table, and stares down its surface at the windows on the other side.

_This is boring._

_This is relaxing._

_I thought we were disposing of the body._

Ryou finishes a sentence with a dramatic flourish of his pen. He's written as much as Shizuka despite starting later, and his writing, while a hasty, black scribble on par with the doodles on his prescription from the doctor, contains a plethora of small, complex kanji from his years of studying grammar. _We will. Are you anxious to start?_

_No. You woke me up._

_It doesn't work like that -_

_If Shizuka reads this letter, she's going to think you've gone crazier, perhaps even crazier than me._

_She already thinks I'm crazy,_ Ryou admits. _I don't think she believed Jounouchi and the others though, or else I think she'd be far more warier of me. She must've thought they were playing a trick on her or something; she's never once asked about you. Besides, she doesn't know you're crazy._

_She'll know a lot more about me if the ever sees the contents of that letter. Can't you lie? You're good at that._

Ryou looks to his side at the Spirit, who still sits with his chin on the table and a dazed look to his eyes. _Just because I'm good at something doesn't mean I need to prove it; I'm good at forging documents and signatures but you don't see me doing that right now. You're presumably good at stealing, yet I don't see you getting the god cards or any other valuable goods. What happened? Tired?_

_Your spinning thoughts are distracting, especially when you project them through your entire mind. It's wonderful that you think about me though._

_You're pretty intrusive._

_You're pretty obsessive._

Ryou turns back to the letter before him. Shizuka seems intent on writing her own, which has grown to two pieces of paper double-sided, and Ryou begins to wonder what she could writing about that would require such detailed explanations. Ryou's own letter is a meagre one-page with enough scratches and cross-outs to cover half a page itself, yet there's some thought put into this recent report of his magically absorb life. By the time Ryou gets half-way through his second page, he's run out of things to say, and he settles for signing his name at the bottom: "Love, Ryou."

_How sweet._

Ryou growls in his throat; Shizuka catches it and looks up, but Ryou masks in under a forced cough.

_We should think about what we'll do once everyone stops looking for us. What are we going to do when we are free?_

_That's easy,_ his other self tells him. _We'll get back to killing the Pharaoh._

 _Just like that?_ Ryou says. _We're going to save the Pharaoh just so you can get revenge on him later._

His darker half leans back, just enough to let his long hair dust the grey carpet that had seen better days decades ago, and his hands, bracing himself from falling back, dig into the carpet when his body lets out a violent flicker. The Spirit does not have time for trivial things such as appearances or manners; in fact, he possesses neither, and he makes a point of showing Ryou both when he runs his arm under his running nose.

_Is this damn body going to be sick forever?_

_Until you learn to let it sleep._

The Spirit grumbles into his sleeve. _It's weak._

Ryou doesn't miss how the Spirit doesn't tell him _he,_ the quiet landlord with a penchant for the occult and a fascination with death and dying, is weak. It makes Ryou smile to hear the Spirit’s backhanded compliment ring in his ears, and just for good measure he throws those saccharine thoughts into the hallway too. The Spirit may think he can chase out the warm and fuzzy thoughts with his shadows, but Ryou already knows that the light will win, so he sits back and waits for the Spirit to speak again.

Instead, it's Shizuka: "Who's your letter to?"

"My little sister."

Shizuka features brighten into a warm smile that makes Ryou squirm. Already he can see this conversation going south. Already he can see Shizuka zoning in on him, ready to ask any and every question under the stars and moon about Amane: her name, her age, her birthdate, her school, and every obscure interest she's ever had that might paint a realistic picture of a middle schooler born decades before her time. Amane was the odd child who likes old music and dated books, who was fascinated by the superstitious even though she herself wasn't, and who had a penchant for reading. It was she who became his best opponent in RPGs, taking up the role of thief, sorcerer, or hunter, whatever antagonist she'd created next for him to take down. Sometimes Ryou would take down the baddie and save the princess, but most of the time he and Amane were dissecting their roles, examining their characters as critical players instead of roles.

It isn't until years later, when there is no Amane or Friday-night tabletops, and Ryou's friends can't play their characters quite right, that Ryou appreciates that he still remembers the antagonist Amane used to love. She was always the thief. Funny how there’s still a thief in Ryou’s life, even if it’s not her.

Ryou wonders how much he can ever tell anyone about himself.

Shizuka must've asked him a question by this point, but Ryou has blanked it out and he feels guilty asking her again, so he lies to her: "Amane lives far away from here, like you and Jounouchi, only she goes to a private boarding school. I don't get to see her often, and she doesn't come home much because she's focusing on her studies. I think the last time I spoke to her she wanted to be a psychologist, but honestly she changes her mind every week."

"Big Bro's never told me about her."

"Jounouchi-kun's never met her before," Ryou offers as an explanation. A quick glance at his letter and he spots the Spirit's face inches from it. Even though they'd learned that the Spirit can access Ryou's memories and abilities – and thus he can read and communicate in Japanese – Ryou's scribbles are inaccessible to the Spirit for several moments before he looks up, glaring

_If someone finds this, they could blame the entire murder on you. Are you really that stupid?_

_No one's finding that, and nowhere does it say that._ Ryou peers at where the Spirit is pointing at on the letter and crosses his arms. _That's not suspicious - I don't even mention your name, or Spirit, or Voice, or anything like that. Don't be so paranoid._

_I'm not being paranoid. I'm pissed off that we're stuck here and can't do anything._

Shizuka has brought along an assortment of envelopes, which Ryou peruses through with a bored eye. If he seals this like he's written a letter to a friend, no one will suspect it as evidence for his crimes. Next to him, Shizuka's own letter rests in front of her, a thick bundle of folded papers.

"I feel a bit better now," Shizuka tells him. "Thank you."

"I'm glad it could help somehow," Ryou says.

At the corner of his mind, the Spirit brushes forward to catch Ryou's conscience in his cold grip. The Spirit's words are icicles in his ears, and yet his cheeks still burn when the Spirit's mouth materialises inches from his face: _We should move Malik's body tonight._

Ryou releases control with enough time to push his other self in charge; the body responds by jumping with a gasp, and the Spirit covers the sound by coughing into his hands until they're flecked with blood and he can leave the room. Once outside, he wipes the blood from his hands onto the sides of his jeans, then returns to the room. In one swift movement the back of his hand connects with Shizuka's head. It's not magical: it knocks her out, her head colliding with the wood off the table, and her eyes rolling back into their sockets.

 _I thought you were going to take her soul,_ Ryou exclaims. _Why this?_

The Spirit shrugs. _I don't want to have to keep track of her soul, and I doubt we'd like her soul being trapped inside any of these kitchen appliances. Besides,_ the Spirit continues, toeing her to make sure she's still unconscious, _this is much easier. No mess, no soul removal and then finding a place to put it, and I doubt she'll wake up before we're back. And if she does, we'll leave her a note._

 _Saying what?_ Ryou growls. He's pissed: his other self has no right touching Shizuka, and harming her? It boils Ryou's blood to see his best friend's sister unconscious before him, with his body being immovable to his actions. Ryou wants to push the Spirit aside and make sure everything is OK with Shizuka, as there's a lot of things the Spirit could have missed that may need to be treated, but there isn't much time, and the Spirit is nagging him, so Ryou tells the Spirit to cover her up  and leave her a note.

_I'm out to get you something for your head. You fell down the stairs on your way to dinner, and there's a large bruise on your head. Stay in the house - I'll be back with some ice and medicine._

_And she'll believe that?_

_She'll believe it more than having no note and me missing._ Ryou already knows it's true: if they are both supposed to be lying low until the drama clears up, that means Ryou isn't supposed to leave the house either, and while emergencies call for variances, this is hardly an emergency.

When they first arrived in the house, before Ryou came with Shizuka, he and the Spirit had argued about where to hide the corpse until it came time to drop it in the mysterious location. The Spirit had suggested a closet in one of the bedrooms, but Ryou, knowing that the body was decomposing fast, suggested leaving the body in the upstairs bathroom, which would never be used by either of them.

Ryou's checked on the corpse several times since arriving at the timeshare house, just to make sure that it is intact, not smelling too bad, and able to be carried when it needs to be disposed of. However, the sight of seeing Malik's pallid, discoloured body thrown into the ivory basin seems criminal. His hair is gelled back with blood to reveal his gaunt features: cheekbones digging into bruised eye sockets; lips parted and bone-white against the blackness of his mouth. The sight both disturbs and fascinates Ryou. Here lies this man - this godless god - left by humanity to starve and die. Ryou can think of a dozen other poetic metaphors if his mind were not hazy with fever, yet he supposes that nothing can explain the enigma that is Malik Ishtar.

And Ryou barely even knows the guy. On his hands he can name only a handful of facts about the foreign boy, and those he's not even certain of. He knows Malik is a ruthless criminal organising an illegal, contrabanding trading card company that also seeks to do his dirty work.

That’s it.

The Spirit shoves him aside before he can delve deeper into the thoughts. _Pay attention,_ he snaps in Ryou's ear, this time his words are not as sultry and moving; it hurts Ryou and he leans back, rubbing at his head as if he's developed a headache. The Spirit sniffs at his actions before pulling Ryou's mind closer to his, melding their consciences in a way that allows Ryou to see and feel what's occurring in the body without being connected to the Spirit himself. It's the type of control that Ryou prefers most since it allows him to be in the Spirit's eyes with his own perspective, yet his other self rarely allows him to be this close.

 _We're carrying the body together,_ the Spirit says, and that is all the warning Ryou gets before he feels his energy sap from his mind. The Spirit sucks back the body's energy as his arms grab at Malik's cold, supple skin and lifts him up. Ryou knows enough about dead bodies to know that Malik hasn't gained weight, but his 'dead weight' - and here the Spirit laughs at the pun, and Ryou rolls his eyes - makes the task difficult. The Spirit attempts to carry the body in a way that isn't embarrassing or humiliating, yet it is soon clear that there is no other way and that they are wasting time throwing the corpse around. In the end, with more energy burned than need be and their body already panting, the Spirit holds Malik Ishtar bridal-style in his arms. Unfortunately, that also means Malik's posture is comparable to a noodle, in that his arms and legs sway with each movement. Malik's hands, feet, and head takes several hits on the walls on their way out the door.

There's still a decent glow of light peeking from the corners of the world that illuminates Ryou's step as heads down the road. As they approach closer to the city centre and Ryou begins to worry that they'll get caught, he instructs his other self to cover Malik's body with their only jacket and to place him along their body's back, piggyback style. It takes a decent amount of maneuvering. They drop the body twice before Malik rests behind the Spirit. His head lolls against the Spirit's neck as they traipse into the city centre.

 _We should get a car,_ the Spirit suggests. His breathing is laboured from Malik's heavy weight spread across his back. Ryou can feel his pain: it's similar to transporting several pointy rocks, where the jabbing comes from Malik's bones jutting through his skin.

 _It's not much farther,_ Ryou says. _We'll get caught if someone sees us carrying a body._

_And you don't think we'll seem suspicious piggybacking someone through town?_

_Not at this hour. Are you saying you're tired?_

_Your body's tired. Make it better._

_You're being childish,_ Ryou growls. He pushes his strength against the Spirit, knocking him aside and causing the body to almost lose its footing. When his other self gains control, Ryou gives more control to the Spirit, and the gentle exchange of energy flows between them to keep the body upright and moving. They don’t stop once on the walk, even when they enter into inhabited areas where locals peruse the streets and shops. They pass Anzu's neighbourhood, and even though Ryou is certain Anzu is still living with Yuugi, he walks on the other side of the road to give himself as much space as possible.

Ryou decides they will drop the body back on the boat. Even if the police have checked the boat before, it's unlikely that a body drop will tie the homicide back to him. The Ghouls have kept quiet, which means they don't have an alibi either, and if any of them are caught they won't be able to defend themselves in court. Meanwhile, Ryou will stay undercover until he can be found with Shizuka by the police as victims locked away in an abandoned house. Ryou doesn't like to see himself as the victim, and the Spirit detests any form of weakness, but Ryou can see this working to their advantage. If they are found away from the body, injured, ill, and with Shizuka who can provide an alibi for most of his disappearance, the police shouldn't be interested in filing a criminal check on him.

Yuugi and the others will though.

 _Who cares what they think?_ his other self says with a shrug. _We'll be finishing up the final touches to the Ultimate Dark RPG while they try to piece all the facts together so they won't have any evidence to detain us. They won't expect anything - look, now you're worrying, dear landlord._

The nickname makes Ryou bristle. I’m _worried that the Ishtar siblings will go after us._

_Do you think they'll be there?_

_They might be._

_A wonderful meeting then. I've always wanted to meet the family._

He can't see the Ishtars through the foggy windows of the boat, but he can see the yellow glow of the lights. He can feel the boat rock just enough to assume there are people walking around inside the craft.

Ryou's never met either of Malik's siblings before – oops. Ryou doesn't know how he should address the siblings, or if they will even know of him. They might recognise him from the missing person flyers, and maybe Rishid will remember Malik talking about a rival, white-haired boy who tried to help him collect the Items, yet Ryou doubts they'll pay much attention to him peeking around the corner to the boat. They can't see the Ring tucked under his shirt, and the Spirit has toned down on the Shadow energy so that nothing will set them off as suspicious. They are neutral, unimportant - a single, pale face behind the shadowy corner.

The Spirit pushes forward into the night, hugging Malik's corpse close to his back. They travel along the boardwalk of the pier. The Spirit's feet stumble on the dips and rises in the concrete, and it takes both his and Ryou's combined strength to keep them from tumbling into the water. Like when they visited the pier before, Malik's boat is but a speck around a corner, though the light guides them forward until they are meters away from it - close enough that if Ryou could lean over the edge towards the water below, he could stretch out a hand and touch the royal-purple hull.

 _How are we getting in?_ Ryou asks. _If there's someone in there, they'll be suspicious if a body just appears in the location when there wasn't one in the first place. Do you want to wait until they come out?_

 _We don't even know who they are,_ the Spirit argues. He drops Malik's body to the floor. _We can't do anything while we're panicking about whether we're going to get caught. Find a new place._

 _The plan was -_ Ryou starts

 _I don't make plans,_ the Spirit cuts in. _It's not going to work, so we're dropping it here and thinking of something else. We can always hang Malik from the pier - no one will have been looking for him there, and it'll be quite the display -_

_You're an idiot. That marks a clear time when the body could've been dropped because people will notice that something new is hanging from the anchor even before they begin to pin suspects. We need to drop the body somewhere that will be found but has been unchecked._

_You could always draw their attention to that mysterious location._

Ryou glares at him; their mind link bubbles with Ryou's frustration. _And say what? Come here, there's a dead body. Funny, Spirit. Only that won't work: not only do we need to make sure that there is no evidence to suggest that we killed Malik Ishtar and dropped his body, but we need to provide specific evidence to suggest someone such as the Ghouls killed Malik, and that means we need to carefully plan where we drop the body. Just like in Monster World, we need to plan what we want everyone to do, taking into account the high probability that they'll just assume the first option their minds go to and roll with it. We need to be smarter even with their stupidity, so no, we're not hanging Malik like a puppet from the pier - that's not symbolic or creative. It's lazy._

 _So you want to wait?_ the Spirit says at last. He makes a point of looking around, throwing his long hair from side to side just to show Ryou how _carefully_ he’s searching.

Ryou doesn't buy it: _Stop fooling around._

The Spirit picks up Malik, swinging him around his back; the body already starts to fall off. _You know,_ the Spirit muses as he begins to stroll forward, unperturbed by how Malik is slipping down their back, legs hanging down and feet dragging across the cement with the loudest sound Ryou has ever heard. Ryou pushes into control, enough to get the Spirit to grab Malik's body before it hits the ground. The Spirit bristles at his intervention, but Ryou silences him by pulling back enough to shove the Spirit back in control.

_Don't do anything stupid._

The Spirit just grins. He takes his time sauntering around the boat, examining its impressive body and tower. It's bigger than most luxury boats, but not enough to be considered a passenger boat, and whether or not the Spirit is pulling from his own memories of ancient boats or Ryou's contemporary knowledge of Japanese boats seen in the dock, it leaves an impression on the Spirit to see something of such size and grace before him. He drags his hands along the hull until he comes to the other side of the boat, where there are open windows.

_Bingo._

Using his legs as springs, the Spirit vaults to grab at the supposed handholds of the ship. Ryou doesn't see handholds - they look like slim juts in the ship's hull that would help it push through the water with less resistance - but the Spirit's nimble fingers catch in the openings and hold tight. Ryou isn't afraid; he forces the Spirit to share the feeling of the wind in their hair and the cold water on their fingertips; the salt on their desiccated tongue and smell of the incense burning inside the ship. Ryou can hear the voices of Malik's siblings whispering prayers for their lost (and now dead) brother, and he wishes the Spirit wouldn't interrupt the moment. They are grieving for someone they don't even know is dead, and it seems rude to interrupt them.

 _They won't even know we're here,_ the Spirit assures him.

Once he makes it to the window, it's only a matter of pulling their body through the opening and sliding down to the floor. The Ishtars must be in the bedroom, for the ship itself isn't much bigger than a living room, and Ryou thankfully doesn't see them anywhere. He tiptoes across the floor on footfalls lighter than a feather; if Ryou thought the Ishtar siblings would hear him, he is underestimating his other self's stealthiness. They slip behind the door into the engine room.

 _Here?_ Ryou asks, just as he watches the Spirit climb over the bars and, holding Malik's arm, begin to descend towards the equipment. Everything is polished chrome that reflects Ryou's sweaty face and slicked-back hair. Once it becomes difficult to climb down further, the Spirit jumps. His knees bend when his feet hit the floor absorbing the shock and impact, yet Ryou still feels the pain even from his room - which he reminds the Spirit with a snap of, _Your body might've been made for this, but mine sure isn't!_ \- and they both grit their teeth and wait out the pins and needles in their shins. When it's safe to walk again, the Spirit takes no precautions from the injury because, before Ryou can stop him, he's thrown himself forward to catch on the vertical pipes running over their heads. They have dropped beneath the engines now, and the floor is sticky with water and condensation. It's also unbearably hot in this area, which Ryou notes with discomfort as he fans himself off with a shaky hand.

They don't stop moving for another minute: the Spirit weaves between engines that look like they shouldn't fit in a ship this small of size. _They’re going to find us,_ Ryou worries.

_No, they’re going to find you._

_Same thing by this point,_ Ryou mutters.

The Spirit is nothing if not saccharinely sweet as he presses up against Ryou. _You think of us as the same, dear landlord?_

 _You pretend to be me,_ Ryou replies with indifference. _You must like me so much that you want to be me._

Ryou knows he deserves the tug on his soul, the feel of cold nails scraping into his being. It feels like knives rending through his body, sounds like nails on a chalkboard in the iciest of winters, yet Ryou says nothing, only glares at the Spirit as he seethes at him. It hurt, but it seems to have hurt the Spirit more. He drops Malik's body once more.

 _Aren't those words I should be saying to you?_ he says, attempting to appear casual, indifferent, but failing oh so miserably when his shoulders quiver with his desperate attempts to keep his emotions in check. It's difficult for him: Ryou can feel him slowly unwinding, becoming unhinged. He can't lose it when one floor above them are the siblings who would _feel_ the shadow magic the moment it was let out in the room.

Yet Ryou's still not scared. He's not afraid of the Spirit or the Shadows. He knows how to manipulate those emotions; he can bring on the Spirit's wrath or tame his anger at will. He knows enough about the Spirit to stop the onset of insanity, but for the moment Ryou pleases himself in watching the Spirit struggle.

Because the Spirit is not in control.

Ryou is.

 _You think, dear landlord, that now is the time to discuss who's in charge?_ A slip in posture; the Spirit chokes on the blood pooling in his mouth. Whether it's from the pneumonia or how hard the Spirit's been biting his cheek Ryou doesn't know, but even if he isn't there presently, in body instead of spirit, he can feel his other half taunting him with control. Give in, he seems to say. Give in. Let's connect.

Ryou waits until the Spirit is heaving before he relents. There's no point in fighting, but Ryou knows he's won when the Spirit is the one to ask, _Where would you like to hide the body?_

 _Underneath something. Malik is high-profile, easily recognisable, and there aren't many places to hide behind that aren't visible from somewhere in this room._ Thus, Ryou takes control to look for a suitable spot. There doesn't end up being much to tuck Malik under because everything is nailed to the ground, but Ryou finds a half-dozen chests and lockers used for storing tools, and when he finds one that is empty, he tucks Malik inside, careful not to squish him. He can feel the Spirit's hands ghosting over his own, wanting to shove Malik in, slam the door, and leave him for the police to find.

They won't find him here, Ryou says. We'll re-hide the body in a better location, but for now we're tucking it in here. Now we need to get out.

The Spirit is good at that. Ryou releases control, just enough to let the Spirit operate the body, and the two of them move out of the engine room, back up to the floor. They check for the siblings, but Ryou can still hear them in the bedroom crying.

_What if they did know? What do you think would happen?_

_That Malik died?_ Ryou answers. _I think they'd be sad, same as how they feel right now._

_How about vengeful?_

Ryou shrugs. _You want to give up your chance at killing the Pharaoh just because Ishtar-san is feeling sad?_

_What if we got her Item too?_

_But didn't she give it to Yuugi for the tournament?_

The Spirit is the master of the deadpan: he crosses his arms over his chest and stares down his nose at Ryou.

_You think she'd leave it with those idiots? If Yuugi can't be trusted with his own Puzzle, I doubt Ishizu trusts him with her Torque._

_You want to find out then?_

_It couldn't hurt to try._

That's enough to turn back towards the ship. Instead of crawling through the window again, he heads up the steps towards the ship. The biting wind tames their hair and the Spirit softens his features, brushing off his clothes and adopting the warmest of smiles. There's still purple bruises under his eyes from lack of sleep, a slash of pink across his cheeks from the fever, and the wheezing of his pained breaths slipping between his cracked lips, but they both know that he doesn't need to look perfect - he just needs to look innocent.

_You really don't think the Ishtars will recognise you?_

_They'll recognise_ _you,_ the Spirit counters. _They may know of me, but they've seen your picture on the news far more than they've seen of me. And I look like you - the resemblance is uncanny - so they're not going to assume you're possessed._

The Spirit knocks twice on the door, gentle raps that seem to be snatched away by the strong wind. However, the siblings do hear him outside. It's the sister who answers; Ryou would've preferred the brother, the less taunting of the siblings, yet he offers nothing less than a warm, out-of-place smile that makes the woman raise her eyebrows.

"Good evening, ma'am. My name is Bakura Ryou and –”

 _She has the Torque,_ his other self interrupts, and Ryou stops talking just enough to make out what his other self has said. Unfortunately, it leaves him with his words hanging from his mouth, and Ishizu gaping at him from the doorway, waiting for his next words. Ryou feels a sense of panic rise in his chest: would she have heard the Spirit? What is she thinking now?

_Don't just stand there - say something!_

And Ryou can't because he can feel the Ring burning into him, can feel the Spirit's ice-cold hands rending his soul into pieces smaller than atoms, and he's not sure if Ishizu is paying attention to him or the other him. In the end, all he can do is hold back the words until his face goes purple and he ends up doubled-over in what feels like the worst coughing attack he's experienced. It comes in handy: at once there are hands on his shoulders, easing him up just enough so that the attack becomes bearable, and Ishizu doesn't slap his back on anything; she waits for him to finish, carefully holding him upright when his legs feels ready to give.

 _Or you could do this too,_ the Spirit adds with a playful smirk.

Ryou shoves every nasty thought he can think of down the hallway to bang on the Spirit's door.

Minutes later, he can breathe without feeling blood in his throat. His hands are a mess of saliva and blood, and with embarrassment he realises what he's just done before the woman. He straightens up in one brash movement, ignoring the aches he feels across his shoulders and chest, and tries desperately to explain himself: "I'm sorry - so sorry! I just - I wanted to - I knew _he_ wouldn't be here but you would be, and I just wanted to ask –”

He is lucky he is such a precise actor because Ishizu seems to forget who he is, who he could be, and she leads him into the boat, ignoring his rambling. She sits him down in the main room and she wets a cloth for him to clean himself with. Ryou hasn't stopped talking; it appears she is more naive than he thought. Either that, or she is as good of an actor as him.

 _The Torque is in her pocket,_ his darkness says. _I could get it from her._

 _Don't,_ Ryou snaps. _She might think we’re weak, but she won’t think we're stupid._

_You think she's faking it._

_I don't think she's naive enough to buy into this._

Or at least Ryou knows he wouldn't buy into this. Not his blessed illness or apparent forgetfulness, for when she questions him why he's come to visit her, Ryou explains that he's escaped the hospital and gone in search of them to help him find Malik. He explains that he thought Malik might be on this boat, but then he drops the fact that maybe Malik is at the hotel - in this case, the one Ryou recently left. The siblings appear to hold onto his every word as honest truth; all at once Ishizu begins to plan how they'll approach Malik.

"Or you could just ask Kaiba-kun to help," Ryou offers, his voice little more than a whisper from the illness. There are cups of water on the table before them, but Ryou knows anything will hurt when it goes down, so he tries to rest his throat as much as possible.

Ishizu doesn't seem to take this information well. She 'hms' under her breath, and when Ryou gives a slight head tilt to urge her to speak, all she says is, "That won't be necessary."

So she's not on speaking terms with the CEO.

_Is Kaiba going after the Items?_

Ryou shrugs. I _t shouldn't bother us who is going after which Item so long as somehow they end up in Yuugi's hands, right? You're not suggesting we start persuading Ishizu to give her Item to Yuugi? What evidence do we have to tell her that's a good idea? We shouldn't even know she has an Item because we've never met her before; the only reason you know is because of Malik, and even if she knows we've met Malik before, she can't have assumed you two knew each other for long._

_That's why we're taking it without her knowing._

_You're going to get caught, and then we're going to be running - and we can't run._

The Spirit laughs, the fool.

_It's not funny when your plans don't work._

_Oh but they are working, dear landlord. Watch._

And Ryou does. It's unnerving how well the Spirit can play the role of him. It almost hurts how good he is, that someone can't notice the switch, someone who is perceptive and wise can't see when another person takes control.

 _I don't get upset when you pretend to be me,_ the Spirit mocks, feigning hurt as he leans up against Ryou with a cheeky grin. The fact that the Spirit can find the situation amusing, maintain a conversation with Ryou, and pretend to be Ryou around Ishizu is admirable. Ryou often gets lost in one mindset, in one state of being, and thus he cannot operate in two different realities. The Spirit is different: he's used to taking control and leaving it for Ryou, in switching between consciences and assuming roles.

And Ishizu seems to miss all of it. The Spirit can get the woman to drink his words: he tells her precisely which hotel they've visited and even offers to walk her there. Ryou sees the opportunity unfurl: Ishizu stands up, robes shifting, and the glitter of gold flashes from her pocket. Ryou watches as the Spirit rises too, giving in to his tremors, and when he steps forward, he lets his legs give way enough to bump into her; at the time that his body connects with Ishizu and he attempts to lift himself up with a bashful, apologetic smile, his hand shoots out and plucks the Item from her pocket, depositing it against the waistband of his pants. The move takes little to no effort, and before Ishizu can help him straighten up, offering to take him back to the hospital, the Item is hidden on his person.

"I think I'll manage," his darker half says. "I'm on antibiotics now, so I should be OK. However ... I might head home. Would you mind if I gave you directions to follow? Do you have a map?"

There's a map on the boat that Rishid retrieves from one of the kitchen cupboards. The Spirit draws a shaky route to the old hotel, and he scribbles the room number above the location. When the siblings get to the hotel, they'll be surprised to find an empty, clean room that was once registered to an "Amane", and while that might be a suspicious clue for Yuugi and the others, Ryou and the Spirit doubt that the Ishtars will see the meaning. There should be nothing in the room to suggest Malik ever rested there except for the heavy scent of bleach from when Ryou scoured the room of evidence, but even if the siblings find nothing, Ryou assumes that they won't see his suggestion as a ploy go get them away - at least, not until Ishizu realises that her Item is missing.

The Ishtars bid him goodbye at the steps leading up to the boat.

 _You should’ve asked them about the scars,_ the Spirit says.

 _The threat of being caught wouldn't be worth it; besides, we won't be seeing Malik again._ Ryou thinks about how the body is tucked in the bottom of the ship, a crumpled corpse shoved into a dirty locker. Now that the siblings are leaving, Ryou can spot several handy locations to hide the body. He doubts anyone will be coming back to the ship, especially if word hits the news that Malik was staying at a hotel, so when Ryou sneaks back onto the carrier, he carries the body and arranges it on the bed. Malik’s arms cross in front of the chest and his legs stretch down to foot of the bed. The hair is dirty, but while Ryou can't clean it, he brushes it down, marvelling at the smooth texture of the locks. Malik's bangs drape too far down his pensive face, so Ryou curls them back and pins them with bobby pins he finds in the bathroom.

 _Would you like some flowers to set the mood?_ his other self teases. He's managed to take on a corporeal form which surprises Ryou, yet he does little more than balance on the foot of the bed and watch Ryou clean Malik's face with a damp cloth. The cloth doesn't take away Malik's kohl, but Ryou still returns to the bathroom to retrieve it. He's never applied this kind of makeup before, so he holds the brush like he would if he were painting a figurine and he gently traces the faded lines already in place.

_You're doing it backwards._

Ryou pauses but does not look up. _Would you like to do this?_

 _No._ The response in immediate, punctuated by a soft laugh that ends in a muffled cough.

Ryou returns to applying the make-up. There's other cosmetics in the bathroom to that Ryou tests: foundation, eye shadow, eyebrow pencils, most of it in neutral shades that blend into Malik's golden complexion. His clothes are bloodied and torn, so Ryou changes the garments too, careful of the thick scars along Malik's body and the thicker ones along his back. Malik's body is nothing short of starved in this state, save for his stomach that bloats from the gases decomposing within him. His clothes hang off his emaciated form - pants that require a belt on the smallest hole still slip off his hips, and his shirts slide off his bony shoulders.

Ryou arranges Malik's body like he's a doll in a play. The room is cleaned next. Ryou arranges Malik's research and supplies at the foot of his bed for whoever should find him first. Ryou considers writing them a note, maybe a letter pretending to be Malik and describing his final woes before his death.

_He wouldn't write letters unless he were gloating about something._

So Ryou writes a note across the wall: The King Is Dead, smeared in black kohl and a dishcloth. It's not his best work but the grievous sentiment sticks in the room. It it perhaps the most aesthetically pleasing body drop if Ryou should say so himself, and both Ryou and the Spirit suspect that whoever should come across the corpse will plant the homicide on many other suspects besides themselves.

 _Your fingerprints are everywhere,_ the Spirit remarks. _You're the one who will get us caught._

_It's not humid enough to recover fingerprints, and the makeup is covering it. Plus Malik's body is covered in so much else that they'll be lucky if they even find a trace of my hands being on him. Honestly, pulling fingerprints off a body is much harder than police dramas make it appear - which is what you've been watching, don't lie to me - so I don't need to worry about them pulling out evidence from thin air. They'll get no evidence that I was anywhere near the body._

_Time of death?_

_They'll be able to tell from the body, but even an estimate of death is simply that - an estimate. It means that so long as I have a valid alibi to cover most of those times, the police won't bother to interrogate me. And if they do question my whereabouts, I can say that I have been in the hospital, at home, and at my relatives' house. All of those are technically true._

_That seems awfully suspicious, landlord. You don't think they'll look into the facts hard enough to see through the lie._

_No._

The Spirit takes corporeal form again and paces around the room. Ryou is nothing less than overjoyed to see his other self before him, gazing up at the black smears across the walls. It looks horrid in stark contrast to the soft, warm hues of the room. It looks organised, like the killer took time to set up and execute the homicide. Ryou wonders if the police will bother looking around the house for the murder site, or if they'll assume Malik was killed elsewhere and brought here.

 _I'm leaving,_ Ryou tells his other self as he picks his weary soul up and makes for the door. _We're done, aren't we?_

_We may be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to Poppy, whose wonderful comments while editing must be included in this footnote:  
> in an Abridged Tristan voice 'Just f--k already!'  
> Malik's in the closet you say...  
> At this point afterlife!Malik has broken out the vodka and is pouring himself a stiff drink.


	19. Chapter 19

Yuugi doesn't make it to Bakura's house the following morning. It seems like a half-decent idea until he wakes up at four in the morning with the horrible realisation that perhaps why he hasn't heard from Bakura or Shizuka is because they are dead. He doesn't want to believe it's possible, yet the nightmare from which he wakes is so vivid that his heart races long after he's awoken. He lies next to Jounouchi, fingers ghosting his friend’s, and tries to even out his breath so no one else wakes up. It's far too early to be up but he is _awake_ and nothing seems to bring his heart rate down enough to rest.

After moments of unease, he gives up and slips out from the warm sheets. Both Jounouchi and Honda shift from the lack of weight in the middle of the bed, but neither of them wake up when Yuugi climbs out of bed and heads downstairs. The Puzzle box is held tight in his sweaty palms until he sets it down to get a drink from the tap. There is just enough moonlight slipping from between the kitchen window's blinds that it catches on the corner of the box and illuminates the delicate hieroglyphs around its sides.

“You think he's still with you?”

Well, his heart is racing even harder now! Yuugi spins on his heel to spot Shaadii standing in the door leading to the game shop, entire existence as impassive as his words that ring in Yuugi's ears. Yuugi's seen the mysterious spirit before and questioned how he can maintain such an appearance despite his lack of being. However, today Shaadii weakly flickers in the moonlight and appears to look beyond Yuugi. Instinctively, Yuugi reaches across the counter for the puzzle box and presses it tight to his chest. Shaadii has tries to take the Puzzle before; Yuugi wouldn't put it past him to try and steal from Yuugi again.

“I'm not here to take anything from you,” Shaadii says. He steps forward, body moving with such ethereal grace that Yuugi doubts this man can hold a presence in reality. His robes pool around the ground, and upon closer inspection Yuugi can now see they are dyed red at the bottom. There is also a wound on Shaadii's neck, no larger than a pen, yet it is deep enough to prove fatal. Yuugi never remembers seeing such a wound on the spirit before, and he can't imagine anyone being able to physically harm someone without a corporeal form. Just to make sure this isn't another dream, Yuugi pinches the insides of his palms.

Nope.

Still reality.

“The King Is Dead,” Shaadii says.

Yuugi clutches the puzzle box closer. “You're days too late, and he's still alive. He's with us.”

And Shaadii fucking shrugs and begins to walk around the kitchen. Yuugi watches, considers going back upstairs and waking up Jounouchi and Honda, maybe even wake up Anzu even though she is not a morning person, and letting them all witness what their life has become. Yuugi even considers going back upstairs just to grab his phone and videotape this to show to Kaiba because perhaps the CEO will get a kick out of a spirit coming in to check if everyone is going according to a plan he hasn't been a part of. And he won't be – Yuugi catches himself before he overshares anything with Shaadii.

“Yes, the King did die days ago. His soul is not at rest though. His soul is still looking for other kings - kings that took his life.” Shaadii settles at the counter and stares at Yuugi, contemplating him with eyes that stare through Yuugi and into his soul. “It’s your job, vessel of the Pharaoh and bearer of the Millennium Puzzle, to end this suffering for everyone.”

“For who? Others?” Yuugi feels selfish as he lifts his chin. “I’m getting the Puzzle back and that’s it. I can’t save others; I can’t even save him. You shouldn’t place your trust in me when all I’ve done is hurt those around me.”

Shaadii doesn’t challenge that comment. “The suffering will end when all seven Millennium Items are reunited on the Stone Tablet in Kul Elna.”

“Where?”

“Kul Elna - the birthplace of the Items.”

_Right - where Malik’s from._ Yuugi can only imagine that the Ishtars are tied to this city. He wonders if the Ishtars are booking flights back to Kul Elna and if he can somehow find out where they are going. Now that Shaadii’s popped up and told him the terrible truth, Yuugi can’t help but want to track down the others who were spewing theories. He knows that Kaiba’s spoken more to the Ishtars than he has, but that only fuels his need to track down Ishizu - who doesn’t want to see him, but Yuugi’s long past making pleasantries with others - and interrogate her yet again about her brother. He can go after Kaiba too: he probably got information from Ishizu too.

By the time Yuugi looks up from his thoughts, there’s a peek of sunshine coming through the window and Shaadii is long gone. Yuugi’s dry eyes can’t see the time on the stove, but he trudges upstairs regardless of what hour it is, shoves Jounouchi until he wakes up (he was already a bit awake when Yuugi came in - he knows his best friend wakes up at the crack of dawn any other day), and whispers in his ear, “I can’t tell if I had a dream or not, but Shaadii just came in and told me to find the Puzzle.”

“Shaadii’s a lying bastard,” Jounouchi grumbles into his pillow. “Don’t listen t’ him.”

“Want to go find Kaiba?”

“He’s a lying bastard too.”

Yuugi laughs, though the sound is rather hollow and echoes in the dark room. “Yeah. Come on.”

* * *

Yuugi considers video calling Seto before he leaves just to let him know that he’ll be making a trip to his office at … 6:22 am.

Yuugi yawns into the back of his hand, then takes a long sip of his coffee. It’s cold because even in the morning the temperature is stifling and Yuugi’s regretting wearing pants instead of shorts. Next to him, Jounouchi is in the clothes he wore the day before, blond hair unbrushed and hanging in front of his bright eyes. Jounouchi only needs one cup of coffee before he starts the day; Yuugi’s on his second can of cold coffee and his third caffeinated beverage in two hours and he still sways in the morning breeze. The train isn’t late but they are early, and though the station is busy and packed with morning commuters, Yuugi feels alone. It’s as if the bustle around him is white noise in his tired ears and his glazed eyes blur the movements of the salarymen.

“Game plan?” Jounouchi asks with a nudge to him.

“Ask Kaiba about the Ishtars. He must’ve let them off the hook because he got what information he needed about Malik. I can’t see anyone being able to escape from Kaiba. Then we’ll ask him about Shizuka-chan and Bakura-kun - he must know something about them.”

Technically, they know nothing about Ryou or Shizuka. Jounouchi has called or visited half the hotels in the city looking for his little sister, and personally interrogated six of the owners in the establishments, yet no one seems to have any clues about their whereabouts. At first, Yuugi thought it might be because Ryou would never choose to sleep anywhere that wasn’t undercover; however, as Anzu pointed out to him, it would be more suspicious for Ryou to be hiding away than undercover. Most likely Ryou is under an alias and sleeping somewhere nearby. Yuugi wants to think so; he wants to think that the Spirit wouldn’t leave Domino without first acquiring all the nearby Millennium Items, and because he now knows that Ishizu Ishtar still has her Torque, he can safely assume that Ryou, the Spirit, and Shizuka are still within the vicinity.

This would have made things easier if Yuugi realised that he knows nothing about his classmates. Nothing. The odd facts Yuugi knew about Bakura Ryou - his favourite RPGs and movies, his top-tier grades, his passion for the occult - did nothing to narrow down any particular aliases he may have used. When Anzu suggested he may have used a family name, Yuugi couldn’t come up with the names of anyone related to Ryou. It was as if Ryou came to Domino as a stranger - a being without place or belonging. The strange thing though was, prior to this realisation, Yuugi had thought he’d known Ryou quite well. He felt like he ‘got’ his classmate, so that if someone ever came up to him one day and said, ‘Remember Bakura Ryou from class 2-B?’ he could not only say, ‘Yeah, I was in his class too!’ but also, ‘And he likes old RPGs and occult rituals and one time ate three entire boxes of strawberry Pocky during a movie and somehow didn’t vomit pink that night.’ But now Yuugi can’t quite place his finger on his friend. The Bakura Ryou he met is as much a  mystery as the Spirit, and Yuugi becomes acutely aware of how easy it might be for Ryou to get away with anything.

Get away with stealing.

Get away with murder.

Get away.

But he’s not leaving yet. Not until he gets the Torque.

On the train ride to KaibaCorp, Yuugi counts the number of times someone steps on his toes and the number of times Jounouchi snaps back for someone stepping on _his_ toes, and when they do get off the train it’s to an even brighter, hotter day. The coffee in his hand is neither cooling him down nor waking him up, so Yuugi takes one last swig before he chucks it in the trash and makes it down the sidewalk. This district in Domino is sterile compared to the rest of the city: tall, steel buildings shoot up from the cement like metal trees reaching for an azure sky. The lawns are manicured with fake grass, the trees artificial, and the atmosphere offsetting. It’s as if this area is built for the appeal of someone who couldn’t bother to upkeep the environment.

“It’s disgusting being here,” Jounouchi growls. “There’s wealth, and then there’s this. It’s like they’re rubbing it in that our family’s tax dollars are going to this boardwalk.”

Yuugi nods solemnly. His own neighbourhood is rather modern and sports a decent amount of wealth, but this is another level of posh.

KaibaCorp is at the end of the street, and even then the building is behind a gate that blocks a driveway up to the house. Yuugi’s been here a handful of times - some of which he’d rather not remember - but he puts on his best air before the great gate and peers at the little monitor attached to one of the gate posts. There’s a handful of coloured buttons without a single instruction, so Yuugi presses them all and hopes one of them will wake up Kaiba. Within moments, a receptionist in on the line.

“KaibaCorp Headquarters, how may I help you?” says a tinny voice. The monitor remains black; Jounouchi taps it with his fingers.

“Hi there. Mutou Yuugi and Jounouchi Katsuya. We’re here to see Kaiba Seto … -kun.” Yuugi swallows. “He’s our friend.”

Jounouchi snorts into his hand, but it appears to go unnoticed by the receptionist.

“I see. And do you have an appointment?”

Well, no -”

“Would you like to book one? I can see what his schedule will be in the coming weeks. We’re looking at three weeks though - summer is a busy time for him -”

“I need to see him now,” Yuugi demands. He takes a quick breath to compose himself, then adds, “This is really, really important. This is Mutou Yuugi, his friend and duelist, and I need to talk to him about matters concerning the Ishtars. It’s critical he hears me out.”

Yuugi thinks he’s caught the receptionist’s tongue until she states, “Well you’ll just have to wait then. Kaiba-san is quite busy this month. Your call will be given the utmost priority and I assure you -”

“Just tell him it’s Yuugi!” The words come out far faster than he can hold back. “Just tell him Mutou Yuugi is here - that’s all. He knows who I am, and probably why I’m here, so you just need to tell him my name and he’ll get right on the line -”

“Yuugi?”

His name jolts him, not because he recognises it, but because it’s a sound not coming from the speaker box and not from Jounouchi who's taken to pressing all the coloured buttons to see which one gets Kaiba to start paying attention to them. Mokuba stands not ten feet away, still in his pyjamas but sporting the biggest smirk on his face.

“It is you! I knew it couldn’t be just anyone banging on our door at this hour.” He frowns at that. “Are you here to see Big Brother?”

Yuugi can almost see the conversation unfolding and then being shut down the moment he steps into Kaiba’s office. Instead, he goes for a far subtler approach. “I’m looking for the Ishtars. I heard they were staying with you.”

Mokuba’s frown deepens. “Uh, they were, but then they went home after the tournament. I guess maybe they think Malik will come home when he’s done doing whatever he’s doing. Or he gets arrested - either one’s likely.” The kid’s voice peters off, until it’s just two high schoolers and a kid standing around in the wee hours of the morning, awkwardly side-glancing one another. “Yeah - they’re gone.”

It’s enough for Yuugi to predict that _something_ happened between Seto and the Ishtars. Their plan hadn’t been flawless but Seto had been desperate enough to get the Puzzle himself. Yuugi half-suspects that now Seto is pouring over his research looking for Bakura, who might be with Malik or might not be, and who certainly still has the Puzzle with him. For Yuugi, this could mean that the Ishtars suspect that their brother is safe with Bakura, or that their brother is safe without him around. It’s a disconcerting thought when Yuugi thinks about how Shizuka is tied into this and who she might be with - did Malik or Bakura find her first?

Jounouchi appears to have caught onto how this conversation is unfolding. He crosses his arms over his chest and asks, “Did they leave or did Kaiba make them?”

“Well it wasn’t like anyone _wanted_ them here, but I guess if you’re looking for specifics, they left on their own terms. Really though, if you want to interrogate anyone, it might as well be Elder Brother. I bet he’s still up if you need to talk with him, though don’t expect him of all people to be pleasant at this ungodly hour, especially not if he hasn’t slept yet.”

The challenge is there: Don’t get kicked out of the house by Kaiba too. Yuugi steps up to it with determination; Mokuba opens up the gate to let them in. The path up to the building is smooth concrete bordered by beige bricks. There’s greenery on either side of road, most of it appearing fake with its precise trimmings and delicate colours. Yuugi spots what must be Kaiba’s office if only because it’s the brightest light at the top of the building, whereas every other room is darkened.

“You’d be surprised how many strange guests we get coming to our house daily,” Mokuba explains on the trip up the driveway. “And not just solicitors either! Fans, businessmen, clients - everyone knows _where_ KaibaCorp is, but few have been inside of it.”

“You don’t live here, do you?” Yuugi asks.

Mokuba’s expression becomes guarded. “Would you live here?” he asks with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve been to my house before. You know exactly where it is and what it looks like.”

Yuugi laughs off the awkward tension and nods. “I guess I would live here, but I was certain that you’d keep the Ishtars here until the situation was resolved. And I was correct, right?”

“Until they left, that is.”

There is a chorus of solemn nods. Jounouchi breaks the silence first with, “How did they leave?”

“The same way everyone else does: through the front door.” Mokuba can’t hide his smirk and he giggles under his breath.

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Jounouchi growls. “But you just let them walk out, no questions or concerns? I really can’t see Kaiba letting anyone stand up to him, much less a woman who claims to have mysterious powers. Then again, I can’t see anyone standing up to Ishizu either, so I guess both of them met their match and then walked it off.”

“You want to try and stop her?”

“Point taken.”

They make it to the front door, which Mokuba opens up. He stretches his arms over his  head and yawns loudly in a lobby full of receptionists and office workers who look up to greet him with warm smiles and remarks of, “Mokuba-san! Welcome back!” Mokuba assures the nearest employee that he hasn’t been gone all that long - apparently he had gone out to get some fresh air and maybe convince his brother to go home with him - but that he’s back now with some of Seto’s school friends. The office workers nod in understanding, though Yuugi can see through their tired eyes that they are struggling to come to terms with how anyone from Domino High would want to meet with Kaiba, and how they would manage to garner his undivided attention. Yuugi isn’t sure himself; it’s been weeks since Kaiba last came to class, and the only students who seem to recognise his disappearance are Yuugi and the others.

Once the sidechat is done, Mokuba ushers Yuugi and Jounouchi through a set of double-doors that lead to a room bordered by four elevator doors, two on either side. Mokuba presses a button heading up; when the elevator doors open and they step inside, Mokuba slips the key around his neck into a slot, twists the mechanism, and the elevator begins to move upwards. The movement makes Yuugi’s stomach queasy and he swallows a lump deep in his throat.

The doors open to another hallway, though this one has significantly less doors, and most of the rooms appear to be empty. Mokuba pads down the plush carpet, but instead of going to the end of the hallway - where Yuugi had thought Seto might be - Mokuba stops halfway down the hall and turns towards a door. He knocks once, calls out “Big Brother!”, and then opens the door. Seto’s personal office is sparsely decorated: there is a desk, a couch and loveseat before a small table, several bookshelves. One large window stands behind the desk and overlooks the city; Yuugi can’t imagine trying to see a computer screen through the sunlight. Their presence does not seem to disturb Seto, who gazes blearily at them over the top of a sleek monitor. Yuugi can see the crinkles under his eyes that belie he’s been sleeping on the job.

“They came to visit you,” Mokuba explains, gesturing to Yuugi and Jounouchi standing awkwardly in the entryway. Seto gives them a small ‘hm’ and returns back to his work. Mokuba clears his throat and tries again: “They wanted to speak with you, my elder brother, so I’ll just … leave you to it.” Mokuba’s words peter off into as he steps back into the hallway, so when the door slams shut an uncomfortable silence has fallen over the room. Seto remains at the computer, typing lazily away at a document; every so often Yuugi catches him rubbing his eyes or stifling a yawn behind his hand.

Yuugi waits for four agonising minutes before he relents and speaks up. “Hi, Kaiba-kun.”

“Hm.”

“Do you … have any leads on Malik? I came to check in, see how things are progressing, and yeah. I didn’t get to hear from you after the tournament.”

Yuugi almost spots Kaiba Seto shug. He doesn’t say anything, however, and Yuugi bites his tongue to hold back a snapping remark. Seto can be childish; Yuugi has seen that side of him. However, Yuugi has also seen Seto make remarkable progress in such a short amount of time, and Yuugi has no doubt that some of his personal staff must be looking up Malik and the Spirit of the Ring’s possible locations. For this, Yuugi doesn’t let his classmate’s ignorance get the best of him.

After a moment, Seto speaks up in a clipped tone: “I don’t think I need to report to you.”

“No … but I thought I was supposed to be helping you.”

“We’re done, Mutou.”

Yuugi nods. “Jounouchi’s little sister is missing. That’s what I’m worried about. My Puzzle is still missing. Bakura-kun is still missing. This - this isn’t over yet, so I’m not giving up yet, and by the look of progress on your monitor from the reflection of those windows behind you, I’d say you haven’t given up either. You don’t have to work with me, but if you want to know what I’ve gathered, I’m sure we could meet some of those goals. Right?”

Seto shrugs again. “I don’t work with others.”

“You want the Puzzle back, don’t you? You want to see the Other Me too?”

“I want you to pick up your duelist nature, if that’s what you mean,” Seto remarks. He glares over the monitor, this time staring first at Yuugi and then at Jounouchi. “I can’t suggest how you’ll get that back though. That’s your job.”

“I need my Puzzle back. It’s important to me, and whether or not you believe in the Other Me, I believe in him and in myself -”

“It’s something that can be shown but can’t be seen,” Jounouchi interrupts. “You don’t need to start believing in mythical beasts and magic spells, but hear Yuugi out? He needs the Puzzle. He _needs_ the Other Yuugi. You have monopoly over every company in Western Japan - do something with that power. Call up your people. The Puzzle’s with Bakura - we’ve already told you that. Bakura’s with Malik - find them both. My sister is with them, and you bet we’ll be getting her back too.”

“You seem to believe I’ll just drop my work and help you when there is very little in this for me. I’ve already helped you, and where did that get us? Did Malik or Bakura come? No -”

“Maybe they didn’t see it,” Yuugi suggests. “If they’re staying at a hotel or in hiding, maybe they didn’t have access to any current news.”

“You’re suggesting they’re out in the country, far away from civilisation even though it’s equally likely that they just aren’t interested in the god cards. According to you two in our last meeting, the god cards were _essential_ to Malik’s plan. Are they no longer important?” Seto pushes the rotating monitor away; his hands then come to steeple on the desk, long fingertips pressing into each other. “Do you even have a fucking plan, Mutou Yuugi?”

“Yes.”

“Then do share, because if not I want you and anyone involved with this bullshit Millennium Item business out of my building and away from my company and family. I will not settle for superfluous conspiracy theories to be thrown into my tournaments. This is enough. You’re my rival? Act like it. Grow up. But get out until then - I’m not dealing with this.”

“You’re a fucking jerk, Kaiba,” Jounouchi growls. “People are missing and you’re dismissing this -”

“And you’re meddling in my affairs. You want a _card game_ to bring back your families? That doesn’t work. Now _leave."_

Yuugi bites his cheek to hold back his tears, which threaten to spill at any moment. _I will not cry in front of Kaiba. I will not cry before Kaiba._ “Is that why you sent the Ishtars away?”

Kaiba brushes off the taunt; he rolls back in his chair, impassive to Yuugi’s sorrow and Jounouchi’s ire, and spins a ballpoint pen between his fingers. “To my knowledge, you’ve been pushing the Ishtars away by meddling in their affairs. I overheard from Miss Ishtar that you were looking for her brother and that you once stopped her on the streets to interrogate her about Malik Ishtar’s whereabouts. Do you think if she knew what inane ideas her brother was plotting that she’d relay it to you of all people? I had her locked up - as per your orders - and she didn’t spill a thing. She left on her own terms like the grown, adult woman that she is; I didn’t send her away because she chose to.”

“But you didn’t stop her.”

“Did you?”

Yuugi nods. “She’s still looking for Malik. Everyone is. Everyone’s looking for what matters most to them. The only one who’s given up is you.”

It seems to dig deep into Seto’s mind - Yuugi can tell by the way he flinches at the words, eyes narrowing until they are slits staring down the length of the desk at them - but not enough that Yuugi can see Seto relenting. Why not? Yuugi clenches his hands tight just to feel that he is still with this world. “The only one who’s given up is you,” he repeats, “and unless you want to lose yet another duelist, you will help me get the Puzzle back.”

A pause. Then, “Get out, Mutou.”

At precisely 7:02 am, Mutou Yuugi and Jounouchi Katsuya find themselves sitting on the curb of the richest boulevard in Domino City, accompanied by Mokuba who figured he might as well spend his morning with them since his brother has yet to leave the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to Poppy, who is on the final stretch of her PhD and STILL helping me edit this fic! both of us have been swamped with work (her PhD and my Big Bang fic), so no weekly updates ... not that there have been for a while ^^;;


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for suicide in this chapter - please be careful (:

When Ishizu Ishtar learned from Bakura that her brother was hiding away in a hotel, she’d been wary. She’d heard from Kaiba and from Yuugi that he had a Millennium Item hosting a dangerous spirit, and while she hadn’t been able to pick up specifically  _ when  _ that Spirit had taken form, she had known that at some point she was not being told the entire truth. The fact that the boy had come to her private boat docked on the pier - where no one else should have known she’d been residing - when he should’ve still been in the hospital was the first sign. He’d been deathly ill, so she’d brought him inside, yet his mind was as sharp as a thief’s and her battle of wits had thus been strong. How he knew so much about the tournament despite being away from all of it was a mystery to her; surely he couldn’t learn all that from the television?

Nonetheless, Ishizu had taken his advice.

Dressed in long, wispy cloaks and veils, she ghosts down the quaint pathways in one of Domino’s rural districts. The location itself is minutes away from the tournament, so Malik and Bakura had been close enough to the drama to experience it; however, both boys were far enough away to not get wrapped up in it. The hotel is nothing to gasp at - a simple, Western-style building of two floors. Ishizu considers announcing herself to the bellhop and asking to visit Malik, but decides against it in case her brother might escape. 

Her other brother, Rishid, follows her lead resolutely. He hasn’t said more than a few words since they departed from the ship yet, as Ishizu begins to speak up, he follows along and responds as though he’s known the answers all along.

“We’ll knock,” she tells him. “Bakura’s not there - hopefully - and there’s no guarantee that Malik will run. We’ll let him know we’re here to bring him home.” Ishizu fixes her brother with a stare. “You will make sure he comes home, Rishid. He might not like it, but we are not meddling around in Domino any longer.”

“Of course, Ishizu.”

She smiles. “He’ll listen to one of us. If he doesn’t listen to me, will you take over in my place?”

“Yes, Ishizu-san.”

The words come out robotic to Ishizu’s ears; Rishid’s not responding to her so much as reciting what he’s expected to say. “You want Malik to stay here?” she asks.

Rishid pauses as they step up to the hotel. The grey walls aren’t nearly as inviting to Ishizu as the earthy buildings back home, nor are the smells coming from nearby shops, nor the breeze that rustles her hijab. 

“I think,” Rishid begins, “that what we are doing is in Malik’s best interest, though it might not be what he wants.”

“Right - but it’s what needs to happen.”

“Yes.” Rishid’s tone is flat, but Ishizu is still not convinced. She climbs the stairs up to the room with a purposeful stride, careful not to step on her dress. However, when her hand comes away from the handrail to straighten her dress, she spots red on her palms. A wave of nausea passes over her at seeing what appears to be blood - for she cannot think of any other red liquid - and carefully she wipes it off on a wall. 

“Blood, Rishid. You don’t think Malik?”

“From the Ghouls perhaps? Kaiba Seto said there have been murders in the past few days. I … can’t confirm anything.”

Ishizu nods slowly. Her heart pounds in her chest, beating up her throat. She refuses to focus on the blood on the wall that is now dripping, slowly and painfully, to the floor, swaying side to side as it catches on dirt and dust. Ishizu’s seen her fair share of blood before, but to think that Malik might have hurt someone, or even hurt himself if she dares to imagine the situations her brother’s been in …

“It doesn’t have to be his,” she reminds herself.

Malik’s room is towards the end of the hallway. Bakura hadn’t mentioned anything about the state of the room or the things she might see in there, but Ishizu still steels herself as her bloodied hand grasps at the door handle and slowly twists it open.

To nothing. The room is bare with the lights off and the bed sheets stripped. Ishizu flicks on the light - spots nothing out of place - and takes a step forward. There are two beds, both bare, pushed up against the wall. The bathroom is spotless save for two large bottles of bleach resting on the counters. Ishizu swallows.

“Was someone killed here, Rishid?”

Rishid takes a glance at the bleach bottles. “Most likely.”

Ishizu stiffens. “If Malik’s not here, and Bakura thought he was, does that mean our brother’s already moved on?”

“He doesn’t know where your boat is, Ishizu. If he’s not here, then Malik himself doesn’t know where he is.”

Ishizu takes a deep, shaky breath. “I’m going to speak with the hotel attendants and see who this room is registered to.””

However, the conversation proves fruitless. Ishizu remembers little of it because her mind spins through every possible scenario of how Malik could’ve escaped and been on the loose in the city without a single person catching him. Her thoughts lead her to dark places several times - has someone  _ kidnapped _ her brother? However, the hotel attendants know nothing about Malik. They’ve never seen another foreign tourist before, and when Ishizu presses them to remember her brother  _ the wanted criminal in Domino City _ , they can give her no further information besides bringing this up with the police.

What the hotel attendants do catch on to are the bottles of bleach. When Ishizu returns to the room, the attendants point them out.

“Those were in the room?” a woman asks, pointing a finger to the bottles on the sink. Ishizu had brought two attendants upstairs to show them how no one had been in the room despite someone - Bakura - having paid for a solid week. 

“Yes,” Ishizu answers.

“We had a blood complaint a few days ago from a man. We never got his name, but he gave us his clothes to wash.”

“Do you have a description? Blond hair? White hair?”

“White hair, I think the man said. White hair, male, thin - looked like he was on the verge of death.”

Bakura Ryou. Ishizu can think of no other person. However, whether or not that was the Spirit or the Host in control is a mystery to her.

“What was this person like?”

This time the man speaks up. “I saw him in the hallway,” he adds. “He was … tired, and very quiet. Kind though - he thanked us for the clothes, turned down any others that we gave him, and booked a room with us for several nights. Not all that suspicious if you’d ask me.”

“And the bloodstains? Those weren’t suspicious?”

The attendant blushes. “He looked ill, like he’d just been to the hospital or something. I didn’t want to ask what might’ve happened.”

“Did you give him the bleach?”

“No, we don’t have that brand around here. He must’ve picked it up and brought it over.” Taking a tentative sniff, the attendant added, “Smells like he was using it too. I’d like to know where those bed sheets went too - those aren’t cheap and they didn’t come down to laundry anytime soon - but that’ll be a story for another time. You need anything else, miss?”

“Was there anyone else with him?”

“No, he was by himself -”

“Well, until the girl showed up.” Another attendant, this one having been rather quiet until now.

Ishizu stiffened. “Girl?” she echoes. 

“Yeah, small girl, blonde hair. I’d wager middle school, and maybe a sibling to the boy if he dyed his hair or anything.” A soft chuckle. “I didn’t see her leave with him or anything, but she was going in and out of his room that night.”

Kawai Shizuka. Ishizu hadn’t heard about Jounouchi’s younger sister besides the offhand conversation that she was missing; however, Seto had mentioned that her disappearance had spurred Jounouchi and Yuugi to delve even further into the mystery. Hers and Bakura’s disappearance had been placed on Malik’s file, meaning that he was suspected of two kidnappings. Yet Ishizu couldn’t understand how both Bakura  _ and  _ Shizuka had been spotted by officials and yet Malik had never been seen. It wasn’t as if her brother  _ wasn’t  _ noticeable on the streets.

“Have you seen a boy with blond hair?” Ishizu tries.

“With those two? No. I didn’t even seen these two leave. Uh, we might have footage to show where they’re going, but you’ll need government permission to view it.”

Ishizu sighs. If they had Kaiba’s approval, they’d be able to bypass that. In fact, Ishizu distantly imagines that Kaiba already knows these particulars, probably saw Bakura and Shizuka on camera, maybe even saw Malik escape too, and he kept it all from her. Damn him. 

Yet Ishizu offers the attendants a placid smile. “Thank you for your time - your information will help in my private investigation.” To ease the formality, she bows slightly and says, “Have a good day.” Then she is off yet again, out the door and down the stairs, robe swishing around her ethereal form. Rishid follows faithfully and does not say a word until Ishizu rounds on him blocks down from the hotel.

“No one’s seen Malik, Rishid. No one! How can everyone else in this city be found - be connected - and yet our brother has dropped off the face on the planet? Did he leave early? You … you saw him last! He was with you, in Domino. You said he went after Bakura, struck a deal with the thief - and then what? Battle City happened, the Puzzle broke and the tournament was cancelled. Bakura was in the hospital. Malik was dueling with you - you were there with him last. Where did he go after that?”

Ishizu pauses for a breath, and when Rishid doesn’t respond as fast as she can get herself back together, Ishizu tears on: “No one has seen Malik in over 72 hours. It’s like he’s not even here anymore, which is downright impossible because he couldn’t have left Domino without  _ someone  _ spotting him, and everyone who’s last seen him has also disappeared. Why? Why is there nothing of him? What happened between him and Bakura that’s hidden Malik?”

By this point, Ishizu can hold herself up no longer. She takes one deep shuddering breath, much in the same way she used to whenever she became too anxious in the cave, and then fell still. She presses her lips together and bows her head and clasps her hands and hunches her shoulders so that she can meld into the world. In the caves, she hadn’t been allowed to scream - for one, it  _ echoed _ , and for another, she was supposed to be silent - so this technique, nailed into her by her own foolishness when she had tried to shout once, brings her a sense of frightening calm. Slowly, Ishizu begins to breathe again. In - out. In - out. Her hands come to her neck first, glinting over where the Torque should be, then down her chest, around her hips, into her pockets, and -

It’s not there.

It’s not there, and it should be, because something was there before and her pocket had felt heavy when she was walking, but what’s inside her pocket is a stone, a stone, and that’s not even similar but it appears her mind must’ve assumed that it was close enough because of all the other thinking she had to do, so she just assumed that whatever was in her pocket was her Torque because why assume different. 

Only it isn’t. 

It’s not there.

For one fleeting moment Ishizu doesn’t know. Her breaths come tearing through her chest and both hands plunge deep into her pockets. It’s not there. She looks to Rishid who, for the first time in this trip, has an emotion other than pensiveness etched on his marred face. He looks to her with horror when she rips the stone from her pocket and chucks it down the streets. Her mind races to every possible conclusion for this predicament, and  _ that thief  _ -

Ishizu knows.

“He came for the Torque,” Ishizu whispers.

“He?” Rishid asks, and then it dawns on him too.

“How did he knows about the ship though? How could he find it unless he was led to it? Unless Malik had taken Bakura there too?” Ishizu swallows. “Is Malik back on the boat?” Her heart soars. “Rishid, Malik’s back on the boat. He’s probably taking it with him, maybe sailing after someone or sailing back home. Maybe he’s not going anywhere and he’s just sleeping on it, but Rishid, Malik still has to be here because how else could Bakura have found the ship?” 

The emotions burn in her chest; suddenly, she is a child, bolting down the boardwalk back to the ship, back home, back to Malik. The street lights glitter like the warm sun; the gentle breeze caresses her cheeks and propels her feet.  _ Take me home _ , she tells herself. Her hand holds Rishid’s, feels the creases in his skin from the labour he’s served the Ishtar family, and her other hand stretches out for her other brother’s - her little brother’s. It’s been so long since she last saw Malik; he’d taken off in the night with Rishid, escaped the tombs and rebuilt a life - albeit a dangerous, criminalistic life - on the surface. But now Ishizu knows he’s back home, and while she can imagine Malik might be angry with her and gods knows what he’s doing on that ship if he’s working with a criminal like Bakura, Ishizu can’t help but cheer for herself.

Like a child awakening to a new day, she rounds the corner of the pier. The ship is there, still there, floating gently on the dark water illuminating the softest moonlight. Tears prickle in Ishizu’s eyes as she spots the ship that has brought her family here and will bring her family back. 

_ I’m back _ , she tells herself.

She dashes up the ramp to the ship, feet slamming on the metal grates. There are no lights on in the lobby, yet Ishizu flicks the switches on with such vigour that the room sparkles with the lights. “Malik!” she cries out. “Malik, where are you?” The  ship appears untouched: the kitchen bare, the papers unmoved. There isn’t a sound to be heard save for Ishizu’s panting and Rishid’s deep breaths. Both siblings peer around the room, expecting to hear anything: laughter, crying, crashing - any sound of telltale life that Malik might be somewhere on the ship. 

There is nothing. 

“Malik?” Ishizu calls out. “Malik, come on out.” 

Nothing.

Ishizu stamps her feet. “Malik Ishtar, I know you are on this ship. Get out here.” She takes a glance to the left towards the stairwell leading into the basement of the ship, but thinks better of it. If Malik is hiding anywhere, he’ll be upstairs. She leans back to Rishid and whispers, “Watch the door. I’m going to have a look around.” Then she carefully makes her way down the hallway. The euphoria has petered off into mounting confusion and fear; Ishizu wonders if perhaps Malik doesn’t want to be found. What if he truly is hiding from his family?

She throws open the door to the bathroom. Nothing but her pale, sweaty expression staring back at her. Ishizu almost gasps at the feral, desperate look in her eyes staring back at her through the mirror. She laughs off her nervousness, looking back to her elder brother who watches her sneak down the hallway.  _ It’s going to be OK. It’s going to be OK, and Malik’s going to be here. You’ll see. You’ll see him. _

Ishizu throws open the bedroom door. She does. She sees. She sees the words at first, and her hazy, overstimulated mind don’t quite pick up the tongue-in-cheek meaning of “The King Is Dead” slashed in black kohl over the bed. Before Ishizu can think about anything else going on, her eyes drift down to Malik resting softly on the bed, hands crossed over his chest, eyes closed, chest still - and she screams. Her body shoots forward and grabs at Malik’s hands, only they aren’t warm and don’t squeeze back. Malik’s face is impassive; his head rolls when she lifts him up off the bed, limbs slapping against each other. No. 

No.

_ No _ . Ishizu pushes back his hair where the make-up hasn’t quite reached and spots the blotting patchiness of his skin. The foundation and kohl hide the sullenness of her brother’s face, but Ishizu can still see that he’s not with her, not looking at her. His white garments rustle against her when Ishizu pulls him up, presses her baby brother’s face into her shoulder, and  _ sobs _ . Deep, moaning whines rip from her throat as her sobbing increases into hysteria. Ishizu knows she must get herself under control, must not show emotion, but the cold body pressed into her only makes her sob harder. She squeezes Malik’s hands over and over again, ignores the stickiness to his skin or the way his bloated stomach pushes into her hips. 

“No, no, no - you can’t. You can’t, Malik, don’t, no -” She buries her face into his golden hair and sobs. “You came back home; you can’t be gone now. You came back to us, Malik. You came back.”

The corpse flops against Ishizu’s shoulder, make-up smearing against her white linens. Ishizu ignores it. She ignores it all until the emotions become unbearable and she feels herself fall away from this plane of existence. Leaving her body feels like a painful separation in her conscience that drags her away from her emotions. Malik’s fingers are suddenly no longer in her vice-like grip.

“No, no, no,” she repeats. “Come back - come back.” A long, muted sob. “How could you?”

When the feeling overtakes her, Ishizu falls back on the bed, arms cradling her brother’s corpse.

He’s fucking dead.

So Ishizu says it. Not with as much vigour and jazz; she whispers it under her breath. It becomes louder though – her words are no longer words and her voice gives way to a sob that shakes her very bones. Rishid’s hands come to grasp at her shoulders; he’s not crying, she notes, perhaps because he’s seen death before - many, many times before - and so this corpse is nothing new to him. But this is it for Ishizu. She can barely remember her mother’s death, and honestly her father’s death isn’t something she mourns, but seeing her baby brother lifeless on a staged bed shatters her.

“Let go,” she whispers to Rishid, pushing him away. Her hands clamp back around Malik’s and she holds him close. “Let me go - no, don’t! Stop! Enough!” She buries her head into Malik’s chest and  _ screams _ so loud that she half-expects Rishid to rip her from the bed right now, set her down on the ground, and tell her to get ahold of herself. She cannot be doing this but she  _ cannot stop it _ .

She lets it then. She lets herself sob into the bed, roll in the sheets that tie her ankles together and suffocate her screams until she’s left gasping under the covers, Malik’s hand still in hers. Her soul seems to rend in two; she can barely lift her head by the time she comes to. Malik has shifted on the bed, not under the covers with her but turned slightly towards her with his eyes half-open. Ishizu reaches out with a free hand to pull her brother’s bangs free; they tumble listlessly in front of his eyes.

From this point, she can see exactly where Malik had been hurt: a deep cut up his stomach. Gently, Ishizu drags her fingers over the wound and shivers. There shouldn’t be anything there; Malik should be awake. 

As she slowly begins to regain control of her body, she takes glances around the room. The message on the wall, slashed across in the crudest of ways, becomes a bit clearer in her hazy mind; she might’ve complimented the talent virtuosa had they not also been the one to kill her brother. The papers at her feet appear to be more important than she originally thought, though they aren’t the killer’s note: their Malik’s. Hundreds of handwritten scribbles of plans, information, maps, journals - Ishizu has only seen plans this elaborate from ancient times. There are crude drawings of the Puzzle on the papers; Ishizu glances around the for any golden pieces but finds none. In fact, there are no Millennium Items anywhere. 

It’s at this point Ishizu expects someone to appear. Maybe Rishid offering her a hot beverage and a book, or even just a blanket to quell her shivering frame. Maybe Shaadii - the bastard did visit the last time a Tombkeeper died, and if Malik’s not fulfilling his misguided quest, perhaps Shaadii is looking for new volunteers. Maybe, Ishizu thinks, Kaiba Seto will come and tell her how silly she is for thinking she could go after her brother, for thinking she could manipulate a game not even in her own territory.

She lost. She lost the tournament, she lost the game, and she lost her family. 

_ You’ve lost yourself. What do you have to live for now? The Tombkeepers only exist so long as a there is a male heir; Malik’s broken that chain. It’s over - you’re over. You weren’t the child they wanted anyways, so what purpose do you have now? Give up - give in.  _

“I lost,” she whispers under her breath. She takes a deeper breath, bringing up a choked sob, and says it again, this time louder: “I lost. I have lost my purpose to live.”

Her head lifts just enough to see Rishid in the hallway, sitting, watching. She gives him a tear-blotted smile and stretches out one hand, bloody fingers extending. “Come here,” she whispers to him.

Rishid gets to his feet and comes to stand alongside her. His face is impassive. 

“Do it. Do it for me and Malik. I promised him I wouldn’t go on without him, and … and I don’t back down. Losing the Pharaoh is a loss to my pride. Losing my Torque is a loss to my duty as a Tombkeeper Losing my brother … is a loss to my will.” When Rishid doesn’t respond, Ishizu’s voice rises: “Just do it. I can’t live like this, knowing my sibling has gone because of some will of the Pharaoh. Just do it - I can’t take it any longer. Just do it already!” Sobs rise in her throat again, spilling out even when she tries to hold them back with a hand clamped over her mouth. “Stop, stop,” she tries to say. Rishid remains still. Ishizu slams into him and buries her head in his chest, dragging Malik’s arm across and bringing the three of them together. For a moment Rishid stiffens; Ishizu ignores his protest and draws herself closer together, cocooning herself like she once had as a child. Rishid’s warm embrace brings her down enough to pull Malik across her chest, careful of his injuries, and hold him as she would have if she’d found him safe at last.

“I can’t do this,” she says through a shudder. “Make - it - stop.”

Rishid nods.

“Make it end. Finish it all. You told him - I know you did - that if anything like this happened you wouldn’t last a day without him. I said that too -  I did. I can’t take this … We have to.” A heavy sigh. “The end of the Tombkeepers.”

Rishid nods; this time his chin bumps her head.

“This is it.” Ishizu doesn’t hold back a soft laugh. “It ends with us.”

* * *

It’s  _ Yuugi _ who gets a call at 5:17 am by Kaiba Seto, who Yuugi suspects hasn’t slept yet because when he does lift the receiver to his ear the voice is semi-slurred. Yuugi can’t make out the words to begin with, so he snaps back, “Why are you calling me so early, Kaiba?”

“Turn on the news, Yuugi.”

Yuugi looks at Jounouchi sleeping next to him and at Honda a few feet further, looks at the TV that will surely cast a bright light in the room, and thinks better of it. “I’m not playing games with you, Kaiba. What do you want?”

There’s a sarcastic chuckle on the other line that makes Yuugi shiver. “And I thought you were all for exposition. Heh. Well fine, if you’d rather I drop the ball on you: the Ishtars are dead.”

A beat. “What?”

“Found at Domino pier at precisely 2:42 am floating in the ocean; Malik’s body was dead and inside the ship. Forensics have already confirmed that Malik’s body was killed long before the Ishtars would have found him, which means they stumbled across his staged body -”

Yuugi scrambles off the bed and throws on the lights. Jounouchi and Honda groan and cover their eyes as Yuugi hurries back to the television and flicks it on; at once, the screen is illuminated with the latest Duel Monsters tournament, which Yuugi changes to the local news station. Kaiba is still speaking to him, but Yuugi pulls his phone away from his ear just enough so that he can hear the reporter describe the staged murder of Malik Ishtar and the suicide pact of Ishizu and Rishid Ishtar that followed. 

The room doesn’t look as staged as Yuugi had thought when he heard Kaiba first speak. Papers litter the floor and the blankets are chucked to the side, though Yuugi suspects this is how the forensics may have come across the scene after Rishid and Ishizu had been there. Malik’s body is missing, covered by a tarp, but they’ve found a different picture of him to display on the side of the screen - one that they weren’t using for his mugshot on his ‘WANTED’ poster. This picture must’ve been before he ran away because he looks far happier and healthier posing in front of a skyscraper. He looks old enough to be away from his family though; this must’ve been one of the happy times when he was the leader of the Ghouls.

Yuugi spots the black ink next, slashed over the bed like a sneering statement to Malik and the Pharaoh’s deaths. Or at least Yuugi takes it that way. He can only think of one person close enough to everyone to commit such a crime, and it brings Yuugi to tears to think that his friend - his classmate - could take another life. 

“Yuugi, do you know what time it … what’s wrong?”

Yuugi shakes his head. On his feet now, Jounouchi grabs Yuugi by the shoulders and grounds him in place. Jounouchi follows Yuugi’s eyes to the TV set, and his mouth closes into a deep frown when he catches the reporter say, “Is this the conclusion to the series of murders occurring in Domino? When does this end?”

Jounouchi squeezes his shoulder. “It’s over.”

“They’re gone, Jounouchi! They’re gone, and Malik’s dead, and the Ishtars are  _ all  _ dead, and the Puzzle’s still missing. Everyone’s gone, Jounouchi! And - and your sister. Oh god, your sister is still with him -”

Jounouchi stiffens. “With who?”

“The s-spirit’s the only one who could do this, Jounouchi-kun. He must still be there, with Bakura-kun and Shizuka-chan. He’s still out there with them all.”

Jounouchi doesn’t disagree. He sneaks a glance at Yuugi’s mobile. “Kaiba?”

“Yeah.”

“He still there?”

Yuugi hands Jounouchi the phone. The first words that come out of his friend’s mouth are, unsurprisingly, “You still there, bastard?” A pause, then: “Yeah, we turned the news on. Good one - this is your fault, you know that? But listen here - find Bakura and my sister. They’re still out there, and I bet they’ve seen Malik. You want your special media coverage and the final story; you want your rival bring. Bring them back - now.” And Jounouchi hangs up and wordlessly returns the phone to Yuugi’s shaking hands.

“They’re gonna come back, Yuugi. This is it, but it isn’t the end.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's not mention how long it's been since i updated. in good news, Poppy finished her PhD and i'm starting my final year of my BA, so both of us are doing well (:  
> thanks as always to Poppy, who heart shattered in this chapter <3


	21. Chapter 21

At 4:19 am on his walk back to the retreat, the Spirit hears the breaking news: the Ishtars are dead. He can’t believe what he hears at first - it comes from a radio at one of those 24/7 cafés where he bothered to stop by and grab a coffee to wake himself up. The drink itself is terribly weak, but the news is well worth it. He barely makes it out of the shop before a chuckle takes over him, sending him to his knees from painful coughs.

He did it. Malik Ishtar his dead, his siblings are gone, and the drama is solved. No one will be looking for Puzzle or for him; the news has already shared that they suspect a rogue Ghoul had come after Malik and perhaps persuaded the siblings to take their own lives. The Spirit hadn’t suspected _that_ particular outcome, yet he relishes at the conclusion. On his walk back, he spots another breaking news advertisement showing distance shots of the scene of the crime; his handiwork looks impressive plastered across the media. The Spirit is pissed to know that the Ishtars did mess up the papers and corpse, perhaps in their panicking over their brother’s death; yet their timely deaths still make the scene poignant. When the screen flickers to the pier, Bakura laughs outright again.

 _You really can’t take all the credit for that - and you shouldn’t be taking it anyway. Their deaths weren’t necessary,_ Ryou reprimands.

 _Oh but landlord, they were. Just imagine if they hadn’t: someone would’ve suspected it was us. Hell, someone like the vessel of the Puzzle already knows it was us, but it’s not like he’s going to be able to take centre-stage with a convoluted theory like that. No, this suicide ends the investigation. All the Ghouls are dead; no further information will resurface. The Ishtars have no family, and if there are other Tombkeepers they won’t be coming to Japan to rescue anyone. No one will find our fingerprints, so this case will go cold, and perhaps the only people able to advocate for their sibling are now dead._ A giggle. _We solved it._

Ryou is nonplussed. _And you just expect to waltz back into society like nothing has happened - in my body nonetheless? You’re forgetting we kidnapped someone  - specifically Jonouchi’s little sister - and my friends know I killed a boy that led to the suicide of his siblings? That really doesn’t take us off the radar._

The Spirit shrugs. _Yuugi will forgive you. Tell him what you always do: ‘I promise I won’t wear the Ring again.’_

 _That’s not what I sound like._ Ryou sighs and the body stops walking, anticipating the next question. _You really think this is it?_

_What else are you expecting?_

Ryou snorts. _The apocalypse wouldn’t be a far cry._

 _Just wait_ , the Spirit teases. He flinches from a sneeze and runs his arm under his nose. _Speaking of Shizuka - I bet she’s awake. Plan to tell her what happened? How are you going to break all the news to her? Hm?_

Ryou takes a minute to compose himself, and maybe to shove a particularly nasty thought against the door to the Spirit’s soul room. _I don’t have to say that I said that. Shizuka has no idea whether she was speaking to you or to me, and neither will Jonouchi or Yuugi if I say I don’t remember that conversation. They’ll even fill in the blanks for me: I tell them I don’t remember saying that, and they’ll immediately assume you’re at fault._

 _So I’m the bad guy?_ the Spirit says. _You can just use me as an excuse to cover up your own dirty lies?_

_You do the same with me._

_But you consider yourself a martyr. You consider yourself on “their” side._

Ryou feels his emotions rise at those words. _I’m not on_ anyone’s _side,_ he snaps. _I don’t think I’m working with anyone, much less you or Yuugi. At the end of the day, my actions are for my benefit, but I’ll support those working in favour of my goals. Aren’t you lucky then that we have so much in common?_

Suspiciously, this draws the Spirit closer. Ryou feels his presence wrap around his soul, much like when he begins to take control and draw Ryou’s spirit into his, only it’s far less violent this time. The connection is tentative; the Spirit slows down to match the rhythm of Ryou’s spirit before their souls connect and Ryou feels the full force of the Spirit’s emotions. They haven’t been this close in a while and it surprises Ryou that he has full realm of how much he can see and feel.

 _We’re doing this together?_ Ryou voices; it’s the only thing he can think of to say when the Spirit is so, so near - almost like he’s within Ryou -

 _We’re doing this for our own goals,_ the Spirit corrects.

Right. _Right._

_Aren’t you lucky we’re going down the same path then._

Ryou doesn’t respond to that. Rather, he pushes the Spirit away in embarrassment and anger because he’s still right next to Ryou, practically merging souls with him, and it does not seem to bother the Spirit at all that little snippets of his memories are leaking into Ryou’s conscious: sparks of conversations and hazy images that appear to be inside a house. Curiously, Ryou attempts to focus on them while also trying to walk in a straight line down the boardwalk. He’s never seen much of the Spirit’s memories before; what does go through the Spirit’s mind?

 _Wouldn’t you like to know,_ the Spirit drawls, leaner closer. A flash of yellow light - a sun? - momentarily blinds Ryou and nearly sends him tumbling into a ditch along the road. _Eyes on the road._

 _You’re not making that easy_ , Ryou growls. He straightens up. He’s never been good at ignoring intruding thoughts of any variety, but the Spirit’s mysterious memories draw him closer. However, before he can get close his feet hit the side of the deck and he looks up to the old house, lights all off. The Spirit is _laughing_ in his head, deep and throaty that reminds Ryou why the particular image of _choking blackness_ appears next in his mind.

Before the Spirit can comment, Ryou ascends. He pushes open the door to an empty house - Shizuka hasn’t awoken yet. No matter, for Ryou hurries upstairs to the spare bedrooms and opens her door. His heart nearly jumps out of his throat when he catches her eyes - guarded, smoldering brown - glaring at him from over her shoulder. Her wet hair is tied atop her head in a messy bun and, as she stands, Ryou spots that she’s wearing new clothes.

“You’re back,” she says. She looks around him; Ryou sneaks a glance over his shoulder but spots nothing. “Where’d you go?”

“Out - just to get some fresh air.”

Shizuka crosses her arms. “Not worried about Malik?”

The Spirit’s grin is _audible_ in Ryou’s mind; Ryou believes he shouldn’t be quite so happy about that feat.

“He’s dead,” Ryou supplies with an accompanying shrug of his shoulders. “Heard it on the news this morning. I don’t think there’s TV out here, but it’s everywhere in town.” He checks to see whether or not she’s horrified; she’s not, and so he continues: “They found Malik’s body in his private ship - quite the beautifully gruesome scene. His siblings - er, I don’t know their names, but they came to find him, I think - were found dead in the pier this morning; they committed suicide. I think they said Malik’s body had been dead long ago, but that it was just never found -”

“His body didn’t die there then?”

“No.” Ryou shrugs again. “Forensics suspects it’s a rogue Ghoul, one of the surviving members of Malik’s gang. I wouldn’t know if that’s true or not, but I guess the case is pretty much closed. They’re taking the bodies in for investigation just to be sure.”

Shizuka nods. She’s taking death surprisingly well, Ryou notes, though it could be because she’s glad the murderer of her supposedly dead mom has been served justice. Ryou can’t imagine what’s running through a sane person’s mind; currently the Spirit is plotting how he might get the Torque from Yuugi, and whether he should give back the Puzzle pieces yet. Shizuka doesn’t know about that though. To her, Malik’s death must come as a pleasing relief.

After a moment, Shizuka speaks up again: “We’re safe to leave then?”

“I believe so.” Ryou takes a quick look around him. “Any valuables you need to collect?”

“No … we’re just walking back? Like nothing happened?”

Ryou shrugs. “Forensics will catch up to us soon enough. If you want to, you can turn yourself in early, or we can find your brother first. Whatever works for you.”

The girl’s eyes sparkle at the mention of her brother. “I want to see my Big Bro first. I - oh, I need my letter!” She dashes out, returning moments later with the thick, white envelope clutched in her shaking hands. Letter crushed to her chest, she too takes another look around the building; Ryou watches her admire the surroundings with a longing glance. Then she turns to him and smiles. “I’m ready to go.”

Ryou nods. “Let me just grab some things; I’ll meet you outside, OK?”

Shizuka takes her leave with nothing short of a beaming smile, skipping out the door and down the steps to the small grove in front of the shack. At peace at last, Ryou hurries down the hallway to the other spare room - the one he’d previously hidden the corpse in - and throws open the armoir. He’d been afraid she would scour the house while he was gone, so he’d tucked the Puzzle behind the drawers. It’s not a secret hiding spot by any means, yet she never seemed to have found it; Ryou pulls out the bag of Puzzle pieces and peers inside. All the pieces appear to be there.

The Spirit still makes him count, just in case.

Once all thirty-three are accounted for, Ryou packs them up and drops them in a backpack, one of the things still remaining in this house. He checks the dresser for new clothes that aren’t covered in blood, changes into them, and then chucks the others at the back of the armoir, his new favourite hiding spot. There’s unfortunately no food so Ryou doesn’t bother to head back downstairs into the kitchen, but he does, on his way out, pick out a warm jacket and slip it over his shaking shoulders.

Shizuka waits faithfully outside for him; she crouches in a small garden of weeds, fingers nimbly picking at hawthorne and mulberry plants as if someone is meant to tend this mess. When she spots him approach, she straightens up and pulls at her skirt.

Ryou flicks his head towards the exit, back through the little pathway to the road, and they leave without a glance backwards. While it would be easy enough to hail a taxi - there have been several passing by, and Ryou’s getting suspicious how so many can be out in this back-country - Bakura makes them walk several miles until he deems them close enough to civilisation to consider driving into town. Ryou knows Jounouchi will still be with Yuugi, so he instructs the taxi driver to take them to the Kame Game Shop.

“Are you going to tell my brother about what happened?”

“Sorry?” Ryou says, not quite catching where she’s coming from.

“About what happened with you and Malik?”

Both Ryou and the Spirit laugh outright at the irony of those words. “The story will have to come out to the police anyways; I’ll tell everyone first, so they hear it from me and not from whatever twisted story the media brews up. I don’t need them thinking I might’ve had an illicit relationship with Malik Ishtar.”

 _Now_ the Spirit is laughing. _I don’t know, landlord; you were quite gentle with the body last night._

_Says the one who bridal-carried a corpse to a hotel room for the night - no room to talk._

_You couldn’t even stand upright that night. I was just fulfilling your deepest desires -_

_Because that’s what you do -  fulfil desires._

_In a way._

Ryou scoffs.

He and Shizuka attempt to pass the ride in small-talk, or side-ramble as Ryou now considers it because both of them have a habit of talking on and on about the same topic. For him, it’s RPGs; once he finds out Shizuka’s played JRPGs at a friend’s sleepover, he’s adamant to discuss the finer details with her. On the other hand, Shizuka can prattle on about photography: she doesn’t have her camera with her, but she knows a fair amount about lighting and staging, and she shares with him how she’s still been able to take photos despite her failing eyesight - that even if she could barely seem more than a haze, her camera could catch the bigger picture for her.

When they arrive, Shizuka is remarkably calm: she bounces on her heels at the sidewalk before the game shop. The lights are on inside; Ryou can even hear the murmur of voices that sounds suspiciously like Jounouchi and Honda talking. Then Shizuka bolts: she dashes down the pathway, throws open the door, and calls out, “Big bro!”

Ryou pauses – did he hear that voice correctly?. But then Jounouchi is there at the other end of the game shop, eyes wide and mouth split into the biggest, dorkiest grin Ryou’s ever seen, and he spots his sister and _runs._ He collides into her and tackles Ryou in the process, then grabs them both and drags them forward. Ryou feels his head spin as he is then suffocated in the largest hug he’s ever experienced. How can Jounouchi’s arms even be so wide to hold both of them?

Whatever Jounouchi is saying is rambles to Ryou’s dizzying mind. A blanket seems to have fallen over his mind to stop him from listening to Jounouchi’s cheers; nearby, he can distantly hear Yuugi and Anzu and Honda coming down the stairs to greet them, falling to the mess of bodies and burying themselves together. It’s almost suffocating, Ryou thinks.

But it’s also warm and comforting. Jounouchi never lets go of him or Shizuka; Yuugi, having acquired a cosy spot between him and Honda, has yet to let go of Ryou either. Anzu’s got a hold of his and Shizuka’s shirts, though her face is smushed into Yuugi’s back. Honda got Jounouchi and Shizuka in a bear hug of his own, and neither sibling seems upset by the extra squeezes. They’re all together, safe and sound at last.

It takes Jounouchi complaining of being unable to breathe and Ryou’s own coughing attack that separates them; Yuugi pulls him back by his shirt as Ryou tries to not be sick over his friends.

“I’ll get you some water,” Anzu says at once, and departs towards the kitchen. By this point, Ryou can manage a few words. He reaches into his backpack and, with the best hurt expression he can muster, shoves the bag of Puzzle pieces into Yuugi’s hands. Yuugi gives him a strange look until he peeks inside, but when he does his face lights up like a beacon and he looks to Ryou with newfound admiration.

“You found it?”

“I think the Spirit did. It wasn’t me swimming in the ocean; I can say that as much.” Ryou clears his throat and continues: “He must’ve gone after these when he found out the tournament was cancelled, and then ... “ Ryou pauses; here comes the lie. “I don’t know what happened next.”

It’s Jounouchi who catches the implication: “What do you mean ‘you don’t know what happened next?’ How’d you find my sister?”

Ryou looks around, eyes falling on Shizuka; she’s watching him, calculating him like she has been all week, but Ryou is far slyer than her. He can play both roles.

Ryou’s eyes widen in surprise and his mouth hangs open just a sliver to belie confusion. “Your sister? Wasn’t she with you though? You said she was coming down for the tournament, and I just assumed -”

Shizuka’s eyebrows furrow. “But you were with me -”

“I don’t remember -” Ryou pleads.

And it’s Yuugi who ties the pieces together: “The Spirit.”

“You mean to say my sister was hanging out with the demon inside Bakura’s ring? And you” - he turns to Bakura - “don’t remember a single thing? What do you remember?”

“You tackling me,” Ryou supplies. With a shrug, he adds, “I’m sorry, Jounouchi-kun; I didn’t know he was …”

The jingle of the Puzzle pieces in the bag draws Ryou’s attention back to Yuugi, who is still looking inside the bag at the Puzzle pieces. Ryou can imagine this is where Yuugi attempts to put all the lies Ryou’s presented together to see if they match up. It’s an invisible battle of wits. Ryou doesn’t think Yuugi will call him out on a lie, but he’ll suspect the validity of Ryou’s story if it has anything to do what the Spirit could or could not have done. Judging by the fact that everyone is currently at the game shop, Ryou suspects they’ve been camping out here ever since they’ve lost the Puzzle. He remembers hearing Shizuka tell him once she’d slept on the couch with Anzu on the first night they lost the Puzzle. Since then, it seems everyone’s been with Yuugi.

_How sweet._

_I can’t have your running commentary while I’m here with them,_ Ryou warns.

Yuugi shakes out the Puzzle pieces and counts then. His fingers ghost the sides of each piece, feeling the curves and edges of it.

“Do you remember how to put it back together?” Honda asks.

Yuugi nods. He picks up the top piece - the hook - and twirls it between his fingers. Within moments he reaches out for the next piece, then another and another. The Puzzle begins to take shape with each minute; Yuugi switches and swaps pieces on the floor. Ryou notes that he doesn’t remember exactly where each piece goes, but that Yuugi seems to have memorised the shape enough to remember what each piece might look like, and from there he can judge what pieces he’ll need next. According to Jounouchi, Ryou heard that it took Yuugi eight years to solve the Puzzle. It took Ryou ten years to come across the Ring, and less than ten seconds to have it around his neck and experience his first possession.

There is no holy light blasting through the room when the final piece is slipped into place. Yuugi squeezes the Puzzle’s sides to check that it’s not going to fall apart at any moment, and once it’s complete, he slips it on over his head. Ryou watches for Yuugi’s expression to shift, but it’s the Spirit of the Puzzle’s voice that he hears first, booming through the game shop as Yuugi’s eyes - no, the Pharaoh’s eyes - scan the room.

“You’re all here.”

Jounouchi throws himself forward to embrace the other Yuugi with a full-body embrace, sending Yuugi this time to the ground. “You’re back! You’re back, you crazy guy! How is that even possible? How -”

The other Yuugi laughs, deep and rich, and attempts to rise despite Jounouchi still lying on top of him. Honda and Ryou both attempt to pull Jounouchi off Yuugi’s body, who thanks them with a small smile and sits up on the floor. “I’m not quite sure. Yuugi’s asking me about what memories I might have, who might’ve saved me  … I haven’t a clue. I remember being with you all on the pier, and then I must’ve slept the rest of that duel away.”

“It’s probably for the best,” Honda assures him.

“Bakura saved you, right?” Jounouchi says, looking up at Ryou.

“Or something like that.” Ryou laughs; Jounouchi grimaces, but falls back into a lopsided grin when the other Yuugi attempts to stand again. His hands clasp at the Puzzle, heavy and grounding around his neck. Ryou supposes he’s missed this weight and presence. Within him, the Spirit of the Ring watches closely at his enemy’s movements.

_He’s far too relaxed for someone just awoken from his latest slumber._

Ryou isn’t bothered by the other Yuugi’s easygoing actions. He can spot the nervousness around his movements as he walks around the house, almost as if he’s learning about this body all over again. When Anzu spots him in the doorway, she embraces the Pharaoh in a tight hug and begins to fret over his health: “Thirsty? Hungry? Do you get those feelings inside the Puzzle? Can - can you see Yuugi too? You’re back together now?”

“Yes, Anzu, Yuugi and I are back together.” The Pharaoh caresses the sides of the Puzzle. “He assures me that I should greet all of you first; he says I must’ve missed you, and I have. I can’t begin to imagine what’s happened while I’ve been gone.”

“Quite the list of events,” Jonouchi says and whistles through his teeth. “It’s been a shitshow right from the start.”

“A lot has happened,” Anzu says, voice just slightly above Jounouchi’s as she gives him a withering look. “But what’s important is that you are back here with us, safe and sound. We’ve been searching for you; Yuugi’s been endless in his quest, and Kaiba hasn’t rested for a day since your disappearance. Bakura-kun kept you safe though … You’re back here with us.” She sniffles slightly; Ryou wonders if he should fake some sadness too. Everyone else seems to be on the verge of tears.

The Pharaoh nods. “The tournament?” he asks.

“Cancelled,” Jounouchi says. “Neither Yuugi nor I would participate when you disappeared, and Kaiba wasn’t going to run a tournament without us head duelists, so he cancelled it. I can’t really call him a selfish bastard for that, though he was just as much of a jerk that night.”

The rest of the story unfolds after that. Ryou has missed parts of his friends adventure from being on his own, so when the conversation moves to the living room and everyone is holding cups of hot green tea, he listens intently to the story. Between Anzu and Jounouchi they relay how they searched for him and Malik, suspecting that both would be together (they are right, Ryou admits). Once Shizuka had gone missing, Jounouchi admits to having wanted to find Shizuka first and foremost.

“She’s my little sister; I had to bring her back.”

The other Yuugi does not criticise him for the comment. “I’m glad Shizuka was safe. I’m sure you’ve had quite the adventure too.”

Shizuka nods. “Bakura-kun can tell you … oh.” She pauses. “You wouldn’t remember, would you?”

“I haven’t the slightest clue what’s happened this past week. The Ring is off though, so he won’t be bothering me anymore.”

_You are so full of shit, landlord._

_Hi pot. I’m kettle. You’re black._

I know what that means!

_Good._

They’re still talking about the trip when Ryou remembers to pay attention again. From time to time the other Yuugi jumps in to clarify something, but he listens intently to everyone around the table - save Ryou himself - share something of the past week’s adventures. Ryou is glad to hear that Yuugi and Jounouchi had half a mind to go looking for him _and_ Shizuka once they learned neither of them were at the hospital; Ryou had hoped his friends would go looking for him, even if he may have deserted them in the first place.

When it comes to Shizuka’s time to share, Ryou is surprised by her sparse explanations. She tells them about she and Ryou ran away in fear that they would be captured by Malik. She described how they’d hidden out first at a motel, then at an abandoned cottage, and how they hadn’t seen Malik at all but that she’d been worried they’d be hunted down.

“And you remember none of this, Bakura?” the other Yuugi asks.

Ryou shakes his head. “I remember being on the back of a bike, and then in the hospital, and then … and then I woke up and Jounouchi tackled me to the ground.”

“I didn’t know –” Shizuka says.

“It’s fine; you wouldn’t have known,” the other Yuugi says. “What’s surprising is that the Spirit didn’t go after you too. The Spirit is not above using other as pawns in his plan. If he was working with Malik, he should’ve been more involved in the plan.”

 _But he wasn’t,_ Ryou wants to say. _He was against Malik. He_ killed _Malik because he was angry that he’d lost you._

Ryou bites his tongue and smiles. “I don’t think we’ll ever truly understand the Spirit’s plans. I’m just glad you, Shizuka, are OK; the Spirit of the Ring can be quite troublesome.”

_Says you._

_Says me._

“Do you have the other Items?” the Spirit of the Puzzle asks Ryou.

Ryou shakes his head. “Those are still with the police. The Ghouls never took the Items, and to my knowledge Ishizu and Malik still had theirs with them when they died. I bet Kaiba-kun can get them for you though, if you ask that is. In fact, I bet Kaiba-kun will be excited to hear from you.”

Jounouchi looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “Are you serious? That bastard is the last person anyone needs to talk to. The other Yuugi might as well just call the morgue too to check up on the dead bodies –”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Ryou points out with a teasing smirk.

“When really what we need to do is celebrate. Properly.”

“Are you serious?” Anzu says.

“Entirely,” Jounouchi says. “Look, just because shit has hit the fan doesn’t mean we need to mope in it. Get up; get over it. Ain’t that right, Yuugi?”

The Pharaoh nods in agreement. “Yuugi agrees too! He says we should be celebrating the victory of rebuilding the Puzzle and retrieving our closest friends. But before this –” the other Yuugi pauses “– I need to speak to Yuugi about something … privately. We’ll be down in a moment.”

The other Yuugi stands and makes for the door. Ryou already has a sneaking suspicion of what Yuugi might want to say, but he doesn’t follow him up the stairs. He needs to speak with his Other self anyways. He makes it halfway off the couch before Jounouchi catches him making a dash for the door and pulls him back to the couch.

“You can’t be leaving already? Yuugi’s coming back down.”

Ryou opens his mouth, not quite ready with a valid excuse, and promptly chokes on his words. Some kind of realisation dawns on Jounouchi’s face at that moment: he lifts Ryou up to his feet, still coughing, and hurriedly takes off his sweater. “You’re sick; I forgot about that! Here, take my jacket to keep warm! You need to get some rest instead of party it off.”

He nods, unable to get words out.

Honda stands up as well. “Do you want me to walk you home? Are you going to be OK travelling? You’re going back to the hospital, right?”

Ryou shakes his head. He takes a gulp of air and answers, “It’s just a cold. I’ve already run the course of the antibiotics; I just need to wait off the cough now. But thank you though - I do appreciate it. Tell Yuugi I’ll come over tomorrow with his game - I promised him long ago I’d bring over.” And before someone can pull him back, he turns heel and bustles out the door. His throat burns in the mid-morning air and with the sun not-quite warming up the city, he shivers in Jounouchi’s jacket.

_Thank goodness you didn’t have to be a part of that._

_Those are my friends - it’s not like I_ wanted _to leave them, but when your needy emotions are shooting through my mind, it’s a tad hard to focus on anything_ but _the Items. It’s much appreciated if you keep your thoughts in your own mind._

The Spirit scoffs. _Your goals are my goals._

_No, our goals seem to go in the same direction while existing separately from one another. I won’t let you hurt my friends - I’ll kill both of us if you try that again - but the Items … I could care less about those. I want you gone._

_Gone? Landlord, I don’t think you could_ live _without me. We exist together. You saw what happened to your dear friend when he lost_ his _Item? Do you think so highly of yourself that you assume the same can’t happen to you? That you could just move on from the loss of your Item? That your life can exist separately from mine? I don’t think you could. I think you might live for a bit - maybe a week - and then you’d remember me, remember the loneliness. You don’t like to be lonely, do you? Who would be with you if I was gone?_

 _I’d have my_ friends, Ryou snaps. _I wouldn’t have to worry about them being in danger._

_And they’ll always be by your side?_

Ryou can’t hold this deep of a conversation while he’s trying to manoeuvre Domino’s busy streets. He settles for stopping at the closest park; he sits himself down on a nearby bench overlooking the water and pier. _That is guilt-tripping, and it won’t happen anyways. Are you implying you’ll be with me - always? Heh. I can feel your emotions, Spirit: I’m not going anywhere. No one can take the Ring from me._

_You say that so assuredly, but even you know the rules of the game can change at any time._

Ryou smiles fondly. _It’s just like you said: you can’t stick to one plan. Contingency will be the key to winning. And you’ll win - not how to you might like it, but both you and the other Yuugi will be out of the Ring and the Puzzle. You’ll be free, he’ll be free, I’ll be free … and then that’ll be it._

_I’ll kill the other Yuugi before he has a chance to escape._

_And I’ll protect my friends until the end._

The Spirit pushes forward until he’s at the forefront, soul brushing against Ryou’s. He lifts the body up and, bumping against Ryou’s control, he walks it back down the street. Ryou doesn’t question the movements for a moment, but when they pass the train station, he voices his concern. _Where are we going?_

 _To get the other Items. I’m not letting the Pharaoh dawdle at a party and_ still _get a chance to claim two Millennium Items. Besides, it’s not like they’ll be any use to him. Whether or not he has those Items, he’s now part of our game. The Ultimate Shadow Tabletop RPG is complete – right? – and all that’s left is all the pieces to come back together. You’ll be there for it, won’t you? Or will you dare challenge me?_

Ryou leans into the Spirit, feels the warm darkness that brushes against his own tainted soul. _You’ll just have to see. I’m playing my own game._

* * *

Yuugi could’ve had the conversation with his other self then and there on floor of the game shop, but he hadn’t known quite what he’d wanted to say, and honestly his overflowing emotions of love and happiness flooding his other self’s consciousness had been enough to convey the feelings. Even now, as Yuugi peers through the door into the other Yuugi’s soul room, he can’t think of what to say. How he’s feeling? How he thinks he should be feeling? Yuugi’s been pressed against his door drinking in the Spirit’s feelings ever since he returned.

The other Yuugi emerges from a door in the soul room, wearing the same black leather he’s been fond of ever since Yuugi picked it out for him before Battle City began. Yuugi crushes the Pharaoh, shoving him to the ground just like Jounouchi had to the Spirit – maybe the Pharaoh is getting a bit too crushed today, but Yuugi doesn’t care as he _hugs_ his other self with all his might.

“I’ve missed you, Yuugi,” the Spirit of the Puzzle says.

Yuugi nods; words are inaccessible to him at this point. Rather, Yuugi focuses on how his other self seems solid underneath him. Yuugi can feel the ripple of fabric, the rise and fall of his other’s chest. The other Yuugi seems unharmed by whatever sleep he had alone in the Puzzle. It had been Yuugi’s worry that perhaps when the Pharaoh came back out of the Puzzle he wouldn’t be the same. He could’ve come out more like his past self, angry and protective and vengeful. Yuugi had thought maybe his other self would seek out to enact revenge on the Ishtars. But no - his other self had awoken and his first thoughts were to see his friends again.

When his other self chuckles deep within his gut, Yuugi buries his face deeper in his other’s shirt front.

“You have missed me too, it seems?”

Yuugi nods.

“I’m happy to hear. I can’t say what I was feeling in the Puzzle because it felt like little more than a second being in there, but re-awakening to you again … I remember that. I remember feeling our souls slip back together.”

Yuugi hums in the back of his throat. He remembers that feeling as well - the feeling of completeness. The familiar weight of the Puzzle on his neck was the first piece of too-recent nostalgia that sent Yuugi’s emotions on a joyride. And then he’d felt it – felt _him_ – coming back to him like warm feelings surfacing in his mind. The Spirit hadn’t crashed back into his soul room. No, his soul was warm water gliding over Yuugi’s frazzled soul, soothing him back into feelings of safety and comfort and happiness.

“I missed you, Other Me,” Yuugi whispers. “So, so much.”

“I can tell,” the Spirit says. Yuugi feels the Spirit shift and he leans back enough to let the Spirit untangle himself. When his other self stands upright, Yuugi follows suit to meet his other’s warm gaze. “You look so happy, Yuugi.”

“I am,” Yuugi says. “I’ll … I’ll never lose the Puzzle again - _ever, ever again!”_

“It was a mistake,” the Pharaoh says. “There was nothing you could have done.”

The remark doesn’t abate Yuugi. “That’s not an excuse. Jounouchi didn’t mean to -  I know he didn’t - but Malik played dirty. I can’t let our enemies get the Puzzle. You’re too important.”

“I understand.” The Pharaoh draws him closer into a hug. “Someday you will not have the Puzzle though. Someday I’ll be free from the Puzzle, and someday you’ll move on without me. I want you to. I want you to be with Jounouchi and Anzu and Honda and Bakura … I want you to be Yuugi even without me. You understand that, right?”

Yuugi nods. “I do, but …”

“But?”

“I won’t lose you to that. When that happens, I’ll see you off properly. I’ll say goodbye to you and we’ll leave on good terms.”

Yuugi feels the Pharaoh hum in his chest. “I’ll look forward to this day and that day, and to the many days in between.”

A sob catches in Yuugi’s throat. “M-me too.”

Between them, Yuugi can feel the point of the Puzzle pressed into his stomach; around his neck, he can feel the Puzzle grounding him in this reality; and on his hips he can feel his other self’s gentle fingers holding him close, rebuilding the connection once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here we are! it's done, it's complete - you've finished the story! if you've stuck with me through the beginning, or hopped on along the way, i hope you've enjoyed it! this fic was in-the-making for several years, and i swear an entire headcanon thesis was used to make this a reality!  
> as always, thank you to my best friend Poppy for being my beta through all of this. she worked long and hard with me, listening to me ramble off my headcanons, supporting me when i was struggling to write this fic last July (back before this was even posted). i owe it to you! <3
> 
> please let me know what you think of the story - i'd love to hear comments! i have no idea if i will ever do a sequel to this story about the events in Millennium World, but if i do then it'll be just as much of a wild ride as this fic!
> 
> edit: the sequel, Rebuild, will be out on **January 03, 2018**. updates for Rebuild will be every Wednesday (hopefully). please look forward to it! ^^
> 
> cheers, and thank you for reading!  
> \- Lily-liegh and Poppy <3


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